


Twinkle, Twinkle, Deadly Star - A Captain John Hart Tale

by Feral_Female



Category: Torchwood
Genre: AU, Aliens, Bisexual, Cool Katana, Gay Sex, M/M, Romance, Sarcasm, Spiffy Red Coat, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-11-14 09:56:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 41,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11205669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feral_Female/pseuds/Feral_Female
Summary: What exactly is it that a Time Agent does when the Time Agency he works for closes shop? He turns to freelancing his considerable skills out to those in need of his services. Might as well put all those years of mayhem-making to use, right? Captain Hart does have a sister to support and protect, after all.Imagine John’s delight – and immediate suspicion - when the owner of the Maldovarium approaches him with a job that will pay handsomely in return for fetching a teensy, little, insignificant bauble. Money is money, and so John accepts the job then quickly finds himself embroiled in a deadly race to find an unimportant trinket that just might bring about the end of the universe.POSTING NEWS-- I’m still bound in contracted books so the Monday and Thursday posting schedule will remain for a bit longer. *sad face emoji here*As with my Janto work, a few small liberties may be taken from time to time with references to Torchwood, Dr. Who, their timelines, and characters.





	1. Twinkle, Twinkle, Deadly Star - Chapter One - Provincial Life

**Twinkle, Twinkle, Deadly Star**

**Chapter One**

**Provincial Life**

 

(Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.)

In most instances, I rather enjoy waking up to a cock in the morning. Sadly, this particular cock was not nestled between my ass cheeks or resting in my hand. It was on the bloody window frame crowing at my face. I rolled to the side, found a boot, and hurled it at the stupid rooster. A great clucking flurry followed, as did a few red feathers floating into my room.

Yawning widely, I lay on my side, staring out the window at the sun tinting the sky a soft rose tone. Amelia would be up by now, dressed and out in the flower garden, sketch pad in hand, tea at her side. How my mother could have birthed two such completely opposite children defies science. Amelia was grace, refinement, delicate smiles, and soft giggles. I shot people in the face and stole their possessions.

Sure, the Time Agency could put a spin on what it was Jack, Geirr, me, and several others did under their name, but when push came to shove – and it usually did in some lethal manner or another – we were trained assassins. Jack could try to dress it up and call it something else to soothe his troubled morality but why try to gild a sow? We were killers. That was what we did. And we were good at it. So _damn_ good.

But now, with the Agency no longer paying all that wonderful gold to shoot and steal, we’d all had to find other ways to support ourselves. Geirr had chucked himself off a transport. Jack had ended up on Earth trying to be a hero while sucking up to the natives, and one pasty coffee boy in particular. Sometimes I wondered about Jack’s taste in men. Never mind that I was on that long list of men. It was obvious what the handsome bastard saw in _me_. But a pale, Welsh coffee boy? I would never see the appeal.

Knowing I’d not have much time with her if I laid in bed, I kicked off the covers and threw my feet to the floor. The tiny house we called home suited Amelia. It was a cottage set along the edge of the woods, terribly provincial, and incredibly well hidden. It was _so_ damn provincial that they used horse and buggy for transportation. But, the more backwater the better. He’d not look in such places for us… for _her_. That was key because I simply couldn’t be here at her side all the time. Someone had to make money.

I padded over to the open window and looked out at the rolling farmland. Life on Tetra 14 suited. It was quaint and rural. The people were ridiculously accepting of my tales about being an antiquity dealer who worked for a Professor Indiana Jones. Really, the farmers and townsfolk on this cow patty of a planet were _so_ gullible. Even my dear sister believed my lies. I took just a moment to stretch my arms over my head and let the first rays of a new day flow over my naked body. Then a soft rap at the door pulled me from my morning reverie.

“Come in,” I called as I breathed in warming air scented with honeysuckle. The door creaked open and Prism entered.

“Good morning, Captain Hart,” the mechanical nanny/maid said. I gave her an over-the-shoulder look and sighed. Imagine having a fully functional and armed robotic guard and painting it every color of the rainbow and naming it ‘Prism’. Only my little sister would do such a thing as that or insist that the humanoid silver robot should wear flowery dresses and know how to waltz.

“Morning,” I replied as Prism moved about my room, picking up my discarded clothes and dropping them into a wicker basket that held my dirty laundry. Her gears whirred softly.

Prism was a wonderful security bot, if one could overlook her garish colors and the straw hat on her bald metallic head. If pressed, she had enough armament to dispatch an army or level a small village. Much like the one that Amelia visited daily to attend her final few years of school. Oh, how we had argued over _that_ when we’d come to this tiny little dog turd planet close to three months ago. Amelia had the temperament of a junkyard dog when she put her mind to something.

“What’s for breakfast?” I asked as I touched my toes.

“Eggs, sausage, and coffee,” Prism replied, her tinny but feminine voice selection also Amelia’s choice. I’d have given the robot a voice like Satan himself, but it was Amelia who spent all her time with Prism when I was off finding treasure with Professor Jones. An internal chortle rumbled through me. Seriously, every time I said that or even thought it, I had to chuckle to myself. People. Honestly.

“And where is Lady Amelia?” I enquired as I walked to the small bath off my bedroom.

“Lady Amelia is in the flower garden sketching the bougainvillea. I have her under constant supervision via the communication bracelet on her arm. Would you like me to summon her?”

“No, leave her be. I’ll bathe and then go meet her in the garden.”

“Very well, Captain Hart.” The brightly-colored machine walked out with my dirty laundry basket in her lethal hands. What a bloody waste. Still, if push came to shove and he showed up while I was off earning gold, I knew that Prism would shed her summer dress and bonnet and blow the fucker into tiny, bloody bits. That mental image always made me smile.

The shower and shave were quick, as was dressing. Today was meant to be a day of relaxation at home so I left my Agency uniform in the closet – as much as it pained me to not don that sinfully sexy red coat – and stepped into tan trousers and a loose white shirt that had a plunging neckline. I looked like all the other fobs that cleaned barns and milked cows in the area.

“These shoes are horrid,” I mumbled as I slid my feet into leather ankle boots. I gave my reflection in the long mirror on the back of my bedroom door a scowl. “John Hart, if anyone at the Agency ever saw you looking like this they’d laugh themselves into a spasm.”

Such was life when you lived among people who didn’t stab other people in the heart before tea was served. It chafed but for Amelia’s safety I’d dress up like a gentrified ass. But only for Amelia. Or unless it was some sort of sexy dress-up play with a strapping young man. Those two reasons only. I walked out of my room, the heat of the large kitchen the two small bedrooms adjoined smacking me in the face. Prism moved about with practiced ease, stoking the stove with chunks of hardwood.

“I’ll be able to cook soon, Captain,” Prism informed me. I grabbed a small cranberry muffin from yesterday off a fine china platter on the table that was set for the morning meal.

“That’s fine. I’m off to sit with Lady Amelia before breakfast. Run a scan of the perimeter of the farm.” I buttered and wolfed down my muffin while I waited for the scan to complete.

“Perimeter scan shows only two human life forms on this acreage. Would you like me to refine the search parameters to include animal life forms, Captain Hart?”

“No, I’m not concerned about the rabbits eating the cabbage in the garden,” I said then headed out into the new day. The sun was peeking through the trees. The stones of the path were damp with dew. Amelia’s dark red chickens pecked for bugs, the rooster keeping a wide berth from me. Song birds trilled in the trees while bright blue hummingbirds dashed about my head as I walked through the flowery arch that marked ‘Amelia’s Gardens’ as I liked to think of them.

“Bugger off,” I grumbled as I waved at the tiny winged speedsters.

“They’re only defending their nests,” my sister stated from her bench by the fountain. She looked as lovely as ever with her long dark hair coiled on top of her head. The yellow dress she wore was soft and frilly, the hem and short sleeves edged with lace that I’d brought back from one of my expeditions with the good Professor. I chuckled. Amelia arched a fine little brown eyebrow.

“It’s a personal joke that you’re too young to hear.” I sat down beside her and studied the pencil sketching she was doing. It looked just like the bougainvillea creeping over the side and roof of the garden shed. Even among all the flowers that Amelia tended so carefully I could pick up her perfume: sunshine and laughter.

“I’ll be fifteen in six months. Surely that’s old enough to hear a joke,” she replied then rubbed her finger along the edge of a flower to blur the edges and soften the artwork a bit.

“Surely that is _not_ old enough.” I glanced from her book to the round garden surrounding us. Honeybees sleepily crawled over petals of pink, purple, yellow, red, and white. A tiny wren hopped among tall stalks of hollyhock, stopping to peck among the thick layer of dark mulch I’d put down.

“Did you ever get into town to speak to my art teacher?” She gave me a quick glance, her dark eyes framed with black lashes too long and too thick for a girl her age. Was she using makeup? I hoped not. All I needed was besotted turnips coming around drooling over their stupid white open-necked shirts in the hopes of copping a feel. The bodies would pile up quickly, rest assured.

“No, I’ll do that today. Are you wearing makeup?”

“Just a touch on my cheeks and eyelashes.” She laid down her sketchpad and looked me right in the eye. Those soft brown eyes of hers grew steely. “All the girls in town are allowed to use blush and mascara.”

“And if all the girls in town leap into a bloody time vortex would you do the same?” I waved a hand in the air to keep the damned angry hummingbird from my face. “Why do they not bother you?”

“They know me,” She smiled and then pushed to her tiny slippers, her face set into a tender smile. “So, I’ll see you at school then?”

“Oh, yes, of course. Art teacher. Sounds delightful.” I stood as well and offered her my elbow. I’d sooner stick a knife into my ear than meet with some stodgy old academic who smelled of moth balls. “I’ll be there noonish.”

“I’ll hold you to that. You know how important getting into the arts university is to me.” Her head came to rest on my biceps. Oh, this girl certainly knew how to play her older brother. Her skirt swished around our legs as we walked. “Any word from that dashing Captain Jack or his lover, Ianto Jones?”

We stopped on a dime. I looked down at her. “No, there’s been no word and just how do you know that Jones was Jack’s lover? Should you even _know_ such terms?”

She giggled and patted my arm as if I were some senile old coot. But _should_ she know about lovers and such? No, I do not think so. How had she learned about lovers? Damn schools and their teaching of adult words.

“Well, when you hear from them, tell them that I’m grateful that they offered themselves up in exchange for me. One day I hope to meet them and thank them myself.”

“Yes, I’ll tell them.” I never would because Jack and Ianto’s presence on Gidu had not been exactly at their insistence. Truthfully, I had lied and tricked them into coming so that I could free Amelia from that fucking miserable slaver. But she didn’t know that. It still riled me that he’d been able to pluck my sister from her previous schoolgrounds with such ease. The old cow headmistress who had run that school had heard about it, rest assured. If not for my charming and chivalrous nature the old bat would be breathing considerably less for the lack in her school’s security.

So, after that nightmare, I’d moved Amelia from that stupid planet to this equally stupid and even more backward planet. I had also purchased a robotic bodyguard and then hiked Prism’s aggression level substantially despite Amelia’s worries about doing so. So what if some young idiot male touched her and drew back a bloody stump? That seemed reasonable to me. “So, let’s talk about this notion of yours to attend university in a few years.”

She sighed and then we walked and talked. Somehow, by the time we had reached the cottage, I’d been finagled into not only allowing her to leave the safety of this planet but I’d also agreed to pay for it.

“You’re a wonderful big brother.”

“And you’re a true Hart, my love.” I dropped a kiss to her soft hair and opened the door to our home for her. She sketched a wonderful curtsy then beamed up at me. “You could talk a dog off a meat truck.”

Her laughter followed us inside.

 

**To be continued …**


	2. Twinkle, Twinkle, Deadly Star - Chapter Two - The Allure of Academia

**Twinkle, Twinkle, Deadly Star**

**Chapter Two**

**The Allure of Academia**

 

(Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.)

Noonish was upon me.

I strolled through the grounds of the local private school, searching for Amelia among the throng of students moving from one old brick building to another. When I found her she was with a group of other attractive young ladies, whispering secrets about which teenaged turnip had pressed a kiss to someone’s cheek no doubt. They were all dressed similarly in dull brown overall dresses over crisp white short-sleeved shirts. The young turnips were in brown trousers with white shirt and foolish brown bow ties.

 Despite what some may say bow ties are _not_ cool. Guns low on your hips are cool. I sorely missed mine. Going weaponless made me feel vulnerable which is why I had a few lethal goodies tucked away where the fobs of Tetra 14 couldn’t see them.

“You must be Captain Hart.”

My sight lazily moved from Amelia and her new friends to check out the voice to my right. It sounded like it might belong to a sexy man. Well what do you know? My ears had been right. The owner of the voice was quite the looker. Beside me stood a tall fellow with tousled brown hair and deep green eyes. If he were thirty I was the King of Siam.

A pair of wire-rimmed glasses sat comfortably amid the chestnut curls. His smile was rather disarming for he had a small dimple that grabbed my attention for a moment. He was about six inches taller than me, was on the lean side and appeared to be quite the happy bloke. His suit of brown looked a great deal like the uniforms the teenaged turnips were racing about in. Sadly, he also had the moronic bow tie, but given what an eye-pleaser he was, I’d let him slide on that.

“That’s right,” I extended my hand and he firmly grasped it. “And you’d be?”

“Oliver Bancroft, Amelia’s art instructor.”

Oh dear. No wonder she spent so much time drawing. I would too but I’d be doing nude sketches of the man after we’d had wild sex for several hours.

“Pleasure to meet you.”

“And you, Captain. Amelia talks about you constantly.” He still held my hand. So, it was that way. Good to know. Perhaps this backwater town did have _one_ pleasant feature after all. I’d never bedded an educator. Wonder what he could teach me or vice versa? My head was full of ribald ideas that centered on this man, a desk in an empty classroom, and his long legs on my shoulders. “Shall we walk and talk?”

“Walking would be good.” Maybe it would help push the blood rushing to my cock to other parts of my body. “I may need my hand back.”

“Yes, of course.” He dropped my hand quickly, a fine rosy hue now creeping into his cheeks as his green eyes darted from me to the students. Oh, bloody hell, _that_ was attractive. Shit. Okay, now I saw what Jack enjoyed so about Eye Candy’s penchant for blushing and shyly averting his eyes. It appealed. Wildly so.

I started walking. Oliver fell in beside me. “So, Captain, we’re quite pleased to have Amelia here at the Boardman Academy. She’s become a popular addition to our student body in a very short time. She’s also quite the intelligent and gifted young woman.”

I nodded. I knew all that. Where was Prism? “You called me down here to tell me something that I already know?”

“No, at least I hope not. Amelia is extremely gifted. With the proper tutelage, she could become a famed artist. I was hoping that you would consider allowing me the honor of tutoring her.”

I looked from the students filing into their buildings, growing a bit anxious to be honest, until I saw Prism standing guard a few meters from my sister. No wonder I’d not spied her sooner. She was suited up in a uniform like the children. That was rather brilliant on my sister’s part. Relaxing a bit, I turned to look Oliver. The wind toyed with his curls. He was waiting expectantly for me to respond.

“Tutoring. What would that entail precisely? I’ll not have my sister staying late alone on campus. She’s to be safely home as soon as classes are over.”

Oliver exhaled as if he’d been holding his breath. “I’d come to your estate, if that pleases, Captain? Perhaps twice a week?” Being able to look upon Oliver Bancroft twice a week would be _most_ pleasing. Maybe I could lure him out to the garden shed and entice him to give me a blush or two. Perhaps even a squeal of delight when I unzipped his fly and— “If twice a week is too often, once would be fine. She’s got oodles of natural talent but she needs guidance. Art academies are rather stringent about who they admit.”

“Twice a week is fine, but I must be home when you come. If I’m off searching for valuables with the Professor, then no one is allowed on my estate.” I gave him the sternest look I possessed. He’d used the word ‘oodles’. That was ridiculous and adorable all at once.

He bobbed his head sending curls bouncing and his spectacles sliding to the grass. I bent down to pick them up and then placed them carefully into his slightly sweaty palm.

“Those are fine rules, Captain. I’ll happily abide by them.” He trembled just a bit when I folded his long fingers over his glasses.

I was just about to say something suggestive when a loud bell chimed. The students who were milling around outside yet started running. Oliver started strongly and began prattling about classes and being late. I let go of his hand, the sensual spell snapped as soon as that damn bell had chimed.

“I must be going. Teaching and all. I’ll speak with Amelia after class to inform her that we’ve spoken and that I’ll begin her private lessons next week.”

Next week? Damn. I’d been hoping for a chance to make teacher blush tonight. “Next week will be fine. Until then.”

Oliver nodded, smiled, and then loped off, his long legs taking him across the lush green grass with speed. He had a nice if rather skinny ass. He’d just disappeared into the same building that Amelia and Prism had moved into when my wrist strap began chiming. I strolled over to a tree, leaned my back to it, and flipped open the leather flap. After the tap of a button a life-sized hologram of Dorium Maldovar flared to life.

“Captain Hart, I’m so glad I’ve managed to reach you. Would you be interested in a quick, well-paying job?”

I stared through Dorium at the school. Tuition was due soon, and this private little haven was horribly expensive. And then there was Oliver who I assumed would want paid. Although, perhaps I could give him a hardy fuck and that would be ample compensation. Probably not though. Pity. Maybe I could swap a rooster for his services. Doubtful. Even the bumbling codpieces who called this planet home had moved past bartering. They all wanted gold  and who could blame them.

A boisterous wind whistled through the trees, shaking a few leaves free and carrying them across the schoolyard.

“What sort of job?” I enquired of the shimmering man in the flowing robe.

“Barely a job at all. More like a vacation with pay.” I cocked a brow at the bullshit. “Come to the Maldovarium and we can speak in private. Will that suit?”

“Fine,” I sighed. “Let me get my work clothes on.”

Dorium seemed thrilled. Truly, the man was close to clapping by the looks of his grin and his bouncing.

“Wonderful! I’ll see you shortly. I’ll even call Dopto in to serve us just for your arrival!” His exuberant chubby image disappeared with a small crack of energy.

Now I _knew_ Dorium was up to something. For him to call in Dopto just to wait our table? I rang up Prism via my handy wrist strap.

“Do not reply verbally,” I told the robot who was hopefully standing at the back of my sister’s class. “I’m going to make a quick visit to the Maldovarium. If anyone should arrive and even look at my sister, kill first and ask questions later. Give me a sign that you’ve received this message and understand.”

A short musical tune – something by Brahms if memory served – flowed from the vortex manipulator on my wrist.

“Lovely. Now I have harpsichord music bubbling out of my wrist strap. Isn’t that just the manliest thing ever?” I muttered to the leaves rolling past.

I heard Amelia trying to suppress a giggle before the musical response ended.

That girl…

 

**To be continued…**

 


	3. Twinkle, Twinkle, Deadly Star - Chapter Three - Whiskey, Business, and Murder

**Twinkle, Twinkle, Deadly Star**

**Chapter Three**

**Whiskey, Business, and Murder**

 

(Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.)

 

I’d barely gotten my bearings when Dopto appeared at my side. His sister behind the bar gave me a glower but really who was she to glower at me? I’d seen Danta go off with Harkness enough times and come back with her pouch filled with whatever trinkets Jack had given her. If my tastes ran to glowering women I’d be happy to invite her to the back room to join her brother and I but they didn’t.

“Captain Hart.” I threw a look over my shoulder. Dorium sat behind the beaded curtains at his private table motioning me over. Dopto stood staring at me, his warm red skin glowing, his hands moving over my arm in a most inviting manner. I reached up to run a hand over his bald head then snaked my fingers under his long ear. It was similar to scratching a beagle under its floppy ears. The reaction I got from the Durient male was similar. His pretty eyes rolled back into his head and he moaned low in his throat. I tugged him to me and covered his mouth with mine. Dopto responded with amazing passion. We’d done this a few dozen times so he knew just what I liked and responded to. “Captain Hart? Our business talk?”

“Can you give me ten minutes?” I grabbed the eager young man by the wrist. His sister, she of the enormous breasts and dark looks, whipped a handful of swizzle sticks at me.

“I’m sure the carnality can wait until we’re done talking business,” Dorium replied.

“Oh fine,” I huffed and released Dopto’s slim wrist. I flopped down in a chair. The Durient male ran off to get us drinks and Dorium met my glower with an eager smile. Dopto placed my bottle of cold Crag whiskey to the table, kissed the side of my head, and then sat sideways on my lap. I placed a hand on his flat little tummy. He began rubbing my face. Dorium rolled his eyes to the smoky ceiling.

I grabbed my whiskey, patted Doptos’s smooth abdomen, tossed my boots onto the table, and crossed my ankles. Dopto giggled with pleasure then had to resituate himself on my lap. “Talk now. I’m already getting bored.”

“Dopto, go.” Dorium barked at the young man. The Durient pouted and began pleading with me. I nodded. He got to his feet, kissed my cheek, and then sashayed off, letting the beads surrounding us to clatter back into place. I took a sip of the ice-cold whiskey and shivered in pleasure. “Have you ever heard of the Eye of Parthock?”

“No,” I replied then took another sip of whiskey.

Dorium looked ready to burst out of his blue skin. He leaned over the table and began tapping on my boot as he spoke.

“The Eye of Parthock.” Tap on my boot. “It’s an ancient relic.” Tap on my boot. “Fabled to unlock the hidden temple of Parthock.” Hard tap on my boot. Visions of slapping fat blue man if he touched my boot again. “And I’ve got it on good authority that it’s been seen within the past two weeks.”

“And I should care about this relic why? Oh, and if you touch my boot again I’ll be forced to stick my sword into you and that is not a euphemism.”

“Yes of course, my deepest apologies. I find myself more than a little exuberant about the possibility of getting my hands on such a rare find,” Dorium gushed. People walked past, most rather scabby, highly illegal, and dangerous looking sorts. But since that was the type that frequented this bar what other sort would one see?

“How much is your exuberance willing to cough up for this relic?” I asked, took a drink, and kept my eye on the short, smelly man making a fourth pass by our table.

“Five thousand ounces of gold dust.”

That got my eye off the slimy-looking character trying to overhear what Dorium and I were discussing.

“That’s fairly sizeable for something you touted as being insignificant,” I said calmly. Inside my head my mind was spinning madly. Five thousand ounces of gold dust would pay for Amelia’s schooling and university. Hell, it would keep her in higher education until she was eighty if she so wished. Finances had been tight after the Time Agency had closed its door. My funds had shrunken even more having to move so frequently. Keeping Amelia fed, educated, and safe was costly but I’d starve before I’d see her in danger again. “Why so hefty a purse for an old relic?”

Dorium gave the slimy fellow a glower. He went to stand by the bar. “It’s rumored to have magical powers,” he whispered over the table.

“My cock is rumored to have magical powers. Oh, no, wait, that’s not a rumor.”

His affronted look made me chuckle. “What is the preoccupation you have with your prick?” 

“It’s a magnificent prick. Just ask Dopto, he’ll corroborate my claim.”

“Let’s try to stay focused on business here,” Dorium replied with a touch of irritation. I shrugged. “I’ll give you a thousand ounces now to fund your excursion. When you place the Eye of Parthock into my hand then you’ll get the remaining four thousand ounces.”

“Half now and half upon completion of the job.” I met his shocked look with a wink then tossed back another gulp of icy cold whiskey. Old Scabby at the bar was trying his best not to look like he was interested in the table behind the beads. When he twisted to grab his drink from the barmaid, I caught the flash of a blaster hidden under his coat.

“That’s a bit much for me to come up with on such short notice,” Dorium stammered.

“I’m sure you’ll manage though.”

“Bloody rude beasts you Time Agents are,” he grumbled but pushed his fat ass up and waddled off to his office. While he was gone, I got up, gave Dopto a smile that had him wiggling with excitement behind the bar, bent down to touch my toes, pulled out the small knife hidden in the top of my boot and threw it at the smelly, scabby eavesdropper just as he reached for his hidden blaster. The blade sank into his neck. He howled in shock then started bleeding all over the bar. A few of the patrons applauded my aim.

“Oh my, that’s rather inconsiderate of you. Think of the health regulations that you’re breaking,” I said as I strolled through the beads and over to the gasping man slithering to the floor, his hands slick with his own blood. “Not that anyone here cares about health regulations.” He tried to remove the knife but I gently kicked his hand away then shoved him all the way down to the dirty floor and placed my foot on his chest. Dopto and his sister ran around the bar to watch.

“Gasp, choke, gurgle, wheeze,” Scabby said.

I dropped to one knee, removed my knife from his neck, and asked him one simple question as his blood pulsed out of him with each beat of his heart.

“Who are you?”

“Wheeze, hack, gurgle, cough.”

“That was terribly unhelpful. Let’s try another. Who do you work for?”

“Gurgle, gasp, choke, spit, cough, wheeze.”

“Surely you can do better.” He tried but failed. “No? Shame that. Might as well move along then.”

I drove the bloody knife in my hand directly into his chest. He shuddered, hacked up some dark blood, and expired. Dopto clapped and bounced up and down. His sister waved a swizzle stick at me.

“Aren’t you the plucky one?” I said to Danta as I went through the dead man’s pockets. I found little of value aside from a slip of paper that had coordinates scribbled on it, a few old Venusian coins, and a rather ancient blaster. I pushed to my feet and went back to the private table to use some of my whiskey to wash off my knife. After that was done I read both sides of the skinny bit of paper I’d lifted off the miserably unskilled hitman. Dopto and Danta were patting the dead man down and chittering to each other. Dorium threw the beads aside, his blue face tight with anger.

“I leave you alone out here for two minutes and there’s a corpse on the floor?!”

“Any fool knows better than to leave me alone,” I said while I crammed the paper into the interior pocket of my jacket. “I have to go check something out.” I held out my hand, palm out. Dorium was unable to make language happen but he did know how to slap a bag of dust into my hand.  I untied the pouch to check that it was, in fact, gold and not sand. The delicate dust winked and glittered at me. “I’ll be in touch,” I told him, pocketed my pay, stepped over the dead man, and grabbed a sloppy kiss from Dopto. Then I opened a portal to take me to the coordinates on the paper I’d found on the scabby dead man.

“ _Ciao!_ ” I called to Dorium and Dopto then stepped into the snapping portal.

 

**To be continued…**


	4. Twinkle, Twinkle, Deadly Star - Chapter Four - Old Friends Equals New Scars

**Twinkle, Twinkle, Deadly Star**

**Chapter Four**

**Old Friends Equal New Scars**

(Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.)

 

 

 

When I stepped out I gave my surroundings a fast onceover.

“Grosholm Bay is in dire need of a new clean-up committee,” I commented when the stench of the polluted water in the bay blew over me. I’d been to this miserable, rotted planet only once before, back in the day, with Jack. That trip had been before Geirr had joined the Agency and our little duo had become a triad. Oh, the good old days. I’d never admit to anyone how much I missed them both even if they were cowards at their cores.

One had been too weak to face what he had been so he offed himself and the other was living among simpering Earthlings trying to pretend he wasn’t what he was. Perhaps Jack confounded me the most with his need to wipe his slate clean by being a bloody hero. What had changed his thinking so? When had he decided that killing, stealing, and conning were bad things? And why, when I thought about him on Earth with his precious little “team” and his sultry little “boyfriend” in their homey little “flat” did I get a tiny hankering to see what that could be like?

The rub of a skinny cat along my ankle pulled me from my musings, and thankfully so. Standing on the docks of Grosholm Bay dreaming about white picket fences and a man who loved me for myself and not the silver dust in my pocket would get me killed. What would Amelia do then? I dropped down to gather up the orange tabby cat. It rolled to its back, claws kneading the air. It was more a kitten than a cat, young, male obviously, and terribly gaunt.

The aroma of death and decay was rife on the air. Grosholm Bay was the last outpost of the planet of Vox, a pox-ridden planet that had been condemned and shut down to intergalactic travel over two hundred years ago. Only the sickly, desperate, and uneducated lived and did business on Vox. Jack and I had been sent here, all those years ago, to eradicate a person who the Agency had pegged as a major distributor of a synthetic drug known as ‘Silver Sage’. We ended up facing a lovely woman, scarred by her bout of yellow pox yes, but all Time Agents are immunized against all the known diseases in several galaxies, so the sickness she carried didn’t faze us.

 Janet Graymerry was a clever lass both in and out of bed. After several nights of sharing the redheaded minx’s favors, Jack and I opted to let her go in exchange for all the drugs she had been selling. She had agreed, took us and another buxom lass to bed, and then tried to kill us gents as we slept. She shot me in the chest. The report of the gun and my howl of pain woke Jack up and he scrambled from the wide bed we four had been sharing. The serving girl was allowed to run off unharmed. Jack managed to only get a bullet in the leg. Janet then escaped, taking her drugs with her. Jack teleported us back to the Agency where they patched us up then disciplined us severely for letting Janet and her drugs slip through our fingers. They don’t make many women like Janet Graymerry. More’s the pity.

“Oh Puss, to be young and carefree again,” I sighed then slipped the tiny tiger into the inside pocket of my coat. Perhaps my sister could fatten the poor bloke up.

I walked along the pier, the kitten curling up into a ball no bigger than my fist on the slip of paper in my pocket. My fingers rested casually on the hilt of my katana as I strolled down what to most would look like an abandoned pier overlooked by the rundown hovels of Grosholm Bay. I knew better though. I could feel the eyes of thieves, rapists, murderers, and drug peddlers on me. I started whistling an old sea shanty that asked what one did with a drunken sailor.

“I think I’d know what to do with him,” I murmured to Puss sleeping in my pocket. A fat man with terrible scarring and yellow-tinted eyes stepped out onto the pier. His clothing was ragged, his hair limp and falling out. That was what the yellow pox did among other less pleasant things. “Good day, Sir. I’m looking to gain entry to The Crimson Corset brothel.”

“Fuck off, you cock-gobbling wanker,” he replied then pulled an old gun from the folds of his grimy overcoat.

“I see my reputation proceeds me.”

“What?”

“Precisely.” My sight stayed on the revolver he was waving about. “If you plan to shoot me, please aim for the right side of my chest. The left has a pussy and I’d rather not see that blown to bits. Surely you understand?”

He gaped at me as he tried to mentally workout how a man could have a vagina on his chest. His dullness and lack of creativity was his downfall. While he muddled about inside his head, I pulled out a gun of my own and shot him between his yellow eyes. He fell off the side of the pier. Patting my sleeping pussy, I walked over to the edge of the dock to enjoy seeing him bobbing up and down. A mossy board creaked. I spun round, gun in the air. A pack of poxy thugs surrounded me. I calculated how many I could shoot before they killed me and my kitten. The odds weren’t good. One John Hart against an even dozen of this planet’s scabbiest and meanest men. No, not good odds at all but still I just _might_ be able to…

“I can see that you’re trying to work out just how many of my men you can take out before you die.” I smiled at the familiar voice and aimed my gun at Janet Graymerry when she pushed through the wall of muscle and dull wits.

“Janet, my goodness, don’t you look lovely.” She inclined her head, long waves of scarlet hair falling over her shoulder. Even with the scars, wigs to hide her bald head, and eyes yellower than the cat curled up snoozing in my pocket, she had a certain _je ne se qua_ as well as amazing tits and deadly aim. “It’s been awhile.”

“Yes, and I thought myself safe from the Time Agency and the mongrels they hired.” She was a leggy thing as well. Her clothing far richer than the men who pawned her drugs. A bustier of dark green pushed those fleshy orbs up and together. Her pants were tight and crafted of dark leather, and her boots were almost as snappy as mine. Almost.

“Mongrel is a cruel word. We’re more like little mutts with lots of pluck.”

“What kind of stupidity brings you back to Vox, John?” She folded her arms under her breasts. The sound of the filthy water and a body thumping along under the pier filled the night.

“I’m here to rescue and comfort stray pussies for the Intergalactic Counsel for Feline Comfort. Would you like to see my card?”

“Reach for another weapon and there won’t be enough of you left to scrape into a bag and send back to the Time Agency,” Janet coolly said. “Now, why don’t you tell me the truth? Did the Agency send you after me again? Where’s Jack? Aren’t you two married by now?”

“Please,” I snickered, my gun still aimed at the tiny round scar on the tip of her nose. “Jack’s off on another assignment.” If this lot didn’t know about the Agency shutting down, I’d not pass that information along. “I’m here on personal business.”

“Really?” One finely drawn eyebrow crept up her brow. “And what would that be?”

“I realized that I love you and couldn’t live without you?” She threw back her head and laughed aloud. A couple of her dimwitted henchmen chuckled as well. The urge to roll my eyes was strong.

“I think I made my feelings for you and Jack known the last time you visited my planet.”

“Yes, shot through the heart, or damn close, and you were to blame. I think there’s a rock lyric in there somewhere,” I said then smiled at her. “I killed a man at the Maldovarium who had the coordinates to this scenic portside city on him. The Crimson Corset was also jotted down. Well, you know me! I just can’t pass up a brothel. Or the chance to kill someone who’s eavesdropping on my conversation.”

“He’s not one of mine.”

She looked to be speaking the truth but one never knew with criminal types. Hell, most days I didn’t trust myself.

“So, you didn’t send that idiot to lure me back here?”

“Why the hell would I want you back here?” Janet asked.

“My sparkling wit and sexual prowess.” She laughed so hard and so long I feared the bitch may pass out. “Oh, no? Well, my mistake then. The man certainly had the scars and stench of a Vox native. Oh no, do not do that, Sir,” I told the man next to Janet as he pulled out his rapier to defend his – or Janet’s or perhaps the town’s – honor. “I will blow your brains all over Janet’s pretty breasts.”

I smiled my sexiest smile. Janet made a face of utter disgust. I winked. She gave the buffoon at her side a glower, ripped the rapier from his hand, and with a move smooth as fine port, flung the damn rapier at my heart. I jerked to the side to keep the kitten safe. The sword went through me like a dose of salts, the long thin blade slicing cleanly through my shoulder to the hilt. It hurt like white hot fury.

“Ouch and fuck,” I grunted, shot three more men, and took a wild potshot at the sexy and slightly deranged drug lord – or would that be lady? A bit of a gun fight broke out. Not much of one since I was hidden behind two barrels that held dead fish slowly extracting a rapier from my shoulder. “Fuck and ouch,” I hissed not sure which hurt more, the blade going in or it coming out.

Blood seeped through my shirt and stained my jacket. I dropped the rapier to the pier. The cat wiggled around in my pocket, mewling softly. For the sake of my puss, I decided to leave Vox after taking one more shot at the woman who had nearly killed me twice now.

I heard her laugh when my round missed her. “Go back to the Agency and tell them they’re barking up the wrong tree. And if I see you or Jack here again, I won’t let nostalgia overtake me. I’ll kill you both then toss your well-hung carcasses into the bay.” I had no doubt she would do just that. All this dirty talk would have given me a hard-on had most of my blood not been flowing out of my shoulder wound.

“Tell me about the Eye of Parthock,” I shouted while flipping open my wrist strap and tapping in the coordinates that would take me home.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Janet yelled back. The wench was lying. I could tell. I heard the goons with Janet oohing at the pretty rift energy lights. Inbred morons. 

I stood up, blood coursing down my arm, bowed to the lady, and stepped into the portal. Stumbling out in my front yard I turned to see the golden gate snap shut. I fell into the side of my quaint little chalet and then tripped over myself to get to inside and to the bath off my bedroom. There I had a large cache of medical supplies just for such things as gunshot holes, blaster burns, stab wounds, and broken bones.

“Fuck, ouch, and fuck,” I groaned while reaching into my pocket to lift the wriggling kitten out and drop him gently to the floor. “You’ll thank me for saving one of your lives by killing at least a dozen rodents a day here. If not, out you go like a worn sock.”

He pounced on a dust bunny blowing by. Good. The cat listened about as well as Amelia. Just as I pushed the bathroom door open I heard the clatter of a wagon pulling up outside.

“I swear is this is some door-to-door salesman…”

I wobbled to the window and saw not only a small open wagon pulled by a dull brown horse that was shitting in my drive, but one Oliver Bancroft, sexy art teacher, climbing out of said wagon. He glanced up, saw me in the window, and lifted a hand in a shy greeting. Fuck me and the horse that pulled him here. This was not really the time to be playing gentrified landowner. I glanced down to watch as blood dripped from my fingers to the floor.

No, not the time to be having handsome guests in for tea and giggles at _all_.

 

**To be continued…**


	5. Twinkle, Twinkle, Deadly Star - Chapter Five - No One Ever Listens to Mum

**Twinkle, Twinkle, Deadly Star**

**Chapter Five**

**No One Ever Listens to Mum**

(Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.)

 

“Good day, Captain Hart!” Oliver Bancroft called as he removed what had to be two canvasses from the back of his wagon. They were wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine, but what else could an art instructor be toting about shaped like that? I tried to ignore the slightly woozy feeling creeping over me. “I was done with classes and thought I’d bring out a few necessities for my time tutoring Amelia.”

“Drop them off by the garden gate and I’ll fetch them later,” I said, leaning heavily into the side of the wooden window frame.

Oliver looked at me curiously after hauling a pair of easels from his wagon.  A squinty kind of look that made me wonder where his glasses were. “I can’t do that, Captain. If it rains they’ll be ruined. I’ll just pop in and out!”

“This is why I don’t do social with the locals,” I grumbled, slammed the shutters closed, and fumbled my way to the front door, stopping to grab a cloth placemat off the kitchen table to apply to the entry wound. I’d still be leaking out the back, but so be it. The kitten zoomed past, short tail in the air, like an orange streak. I threw the front door open and hid behind it, bracing myself on the wall as another wave of disorientation flitted over me. I peeked around the door to see Oliver approaching, his green eyes darting this way and that as he struggled with the canvases and the wind. I rolled my eyes and regretted that instantly. The room swam. Blood trickled down my back into the top of my trousers. “Just place them right inside the door and be on your way.”

Oliver stepped over the threshold, looked around the door, and gasped. “Dear Juniper, Captain Hart! What happened to you?!” He dropped the ungainly canvasses by the side table then rushed around the open door and pushed it shut.

“I was running with a knife and fell on it.” His lovely pine-colored eyes widened. “See, Mum was right.” My hold on the wall began to weaken as did my knees. Oliver jumped in and wrapped his long arms around me just as I gave up the ghost. If you’re going to pass out, doing so into the arms of a handsome man is much more enjoyable than planting your face into a hardwood floor. It’s just as embarrassing but loads more pleasurable.

*****

When I came to, I was in my bed, minus my shirt and jacket, being fussed over by an art teacher. I lay there silently, my eyes barely open, enjoying the touch of his fingers as he gently cleaned the wound on my upper chest. Several dark curls fell by his green eyes. He chewed on this tongue as he worked, the pink tip just barely visible. His gaze flickered from the wound to me. When he saw me watching him, he stopped, sat up straight, and cleared his throat.

“You passed out from blood loss,” he explained then reached up to push at those wayward curls with the back of his hand. He left a red streak of my blood on his brow. “I carried you to bed and tended to you as best I could.”

“Yes, well, waking up half-dressed with a good-looking man isn’t a bad thing.”

“Almost bleeding to death is,” he nervously snapped and then pressed a clean white bandage to my chest. I saw a rosy glow spreading over his neck to his cheeks. “My apologies, Captain. That was curt. I’m a bit shaken but that is no excuse for being rude to the parent of one of my students.”

“Brother, Oliver. I’m her brother, not her father.”  It took all I had not to sneer at the paternal moniker.

“Yes, of course, I am sorry. Seems I’m more distressed than I thought.” He did look frazzled, edible of course, but frazzled nonetheless.

“Thanks for patching me up. I’ll take it from here.” I sat up. Then fell right back down, my goose down pillow nearly swallowing my head. “Or perhaps I’ll lie here and let you bandage me up.”

“Yes, that’s a dandy idea, Captain. Perhaps you’d be willing to let me go fetch the village healer? She’s much more knowledgeable about such--”

“No!” I said more sharply than intended. He drew back a bit, his eyes narrowing at my harsh tone. Ugh. I hated pretending to be genteel. “Apologies. I’m not quite my usual charming self.”

“Yes,” Oliver mumbled then went back to unrolling some gauze. “Your behavior is excused, Captain. After all, you _did_ fall on a knife.” I smiled a bit at the clearly disbelieving expression he tried to hide. Damn but I wanted this man. Pity I was too weak to even remove the kitten curled between my legs keeping my balls warm. “I’m going to have to lift you up and wrap this around you to keep the bandage in place.”

I nodded. Oliver slid an arm around me. I leaned into him as he lifted. The walls spun wickedly when my head left the pillow. He held me for a moment, my fingers clinging to his homespun white shirt. It felt coarse but smelled like it had been dried on a line by a rose bush.

“Are you fit to sit by yourself for just a moment?”

“Mm, yes, fine,” I murmured into his neck. His skin smelled just like his shirt. I wanted to rub my nose along the pale white flesh, inhale the scent of man and wind and flowers into me. Instead, Oliver moved away from me tentatively, his eyes on mine as he backed away. “It’s good, truly. Bind me up. How many times have I said _that_ to a sexy man?”

“I’ve not a clue, Captain. And please, stop calling me handsome. It’s unseemly for a student’s guardian to flirt so outrageously with her teacher.” His words were short and clipped.

“Are you upset because you think I’m breaking some kind of back-woods etiquette rules or because every time I say you’re handsome it makes you want me a little more?”

His gaze flew from the gauze in his hand. And there it was. The spark of lust that I’d so badly wanted to see. Oh yes, this man would be in my bed soon. And it would be glorious. I smiled and then teetered into him, my nose smashing into his clavicle.

“Sorry,” I grunted then lay there, like an expired octopus, as he tutted and tsked while wrapping gauze around me. When he was done, he tenderly cradled me as he lowered me back to the bed. I slid a hand into his hair, enjoying the way his curls wrapped around my fingers. I had every intention to pull his mouth to mine and kiss him into a state.

“I’ll go put the kettle on and tidy up while you sleep.” Oliver slid from my grasp. I wanted to tell him to stay here and let me play with his curls, but all I did was make a sickly “Unf” sound and drop off into unconsciousness.

*****

This fainting nonsense had to stop. It was unseemly for a Time Agent to be falling into the vapors all the time. Also, being clucked at by a man I wanted to fuck in the ass until _he_ passed out did little for my humor.

“Captain Hart, if you try to leave that bed one more time, I shall be forced to get physical with you!” Oliver barked when I threw back the covers and put my feet on the floor.

“Oh, Oliver, that’s hardly a threat. More like a … fuck and ouch…sensual promise.” I got to my feet, smiled, and wobbly-walked to my wardrobe. “Amelia will be home soon. I cannot allow her to see me like this. She’ll ask questions.”

“I have a few questions myself,” he sniffed but hurried over to assist in getting the wardrobe doors open. Not that I needed help. “The largest one being that I found no bloody knife anywhere in this house as I washed up the messy blood puddles.”

“That wasn’t a question, Oliver, that was a statement.”

“Fine,” he huffed. The exasperated tone made me smile inside. “Why did I find no bloody knife lying about if you fell on one as you claim?”

“There, that’s better. An educator must speak properly after all.” I reached up to tug a clean tan farming shirt from a hanger. The shoulder wound screamed at me. “Fuck and ouch.”

“Please, let me help.” He pushed in around me, wiggled in front, and tugged a clean shirt free. Then Oliver, he of the darling curls and flowery scent, dug about in my personals drawer for undergarments. His confused green eyes darted from the drawer filled with socks to me. “Where are your underthings?”

“I don’t wear any.”

“Oh.”

I snickered as my cock stirred a bit inside my pants. “How old are you, Oliver?” I enquired while he fussed about locating trousers.

“Thirty-three, Captain. I think comfort clothes would be advisable.” He held up a worn pair of dark brown pants for me to see.

I pondered on how my guess to his age could have been that far off. Guess I was the King of Siam. “Yes, those are fine. You look much younger than that.”

“Thank you.” That faint color returned to his cheeks. “Do you need help dressing?”

“I never turn down a man who’s trying to get me out of my breeches.” The corner of his mouth went up ever-so slightly as he closed my wardrobe. “Oliver, do you ever indulge in dalliances with men?”

 “Captain Hart, men are the only sort that I ‘dally’ with. One large downside to us possibly ‘dallying' is the fact that instructors at the Boardman Academy are held to _extremely_ high personal standards. Engaging in a ‘dalliance’ with a student’s guardian or parent would be grounds for dismissal.”

Ah, so that was how it was here. Guess I’d have to start paying a bit more attention to such matters at the school, and in this tiny hamlet.

“So, the only reason you have for not dallying with me is that it would impact your career negatively if you and I were to be found out?” I walked over to him – in a rather weaving line – and took the brown pants from him. “I can be amazingly discreet, Oliver Bancroft.”

“I have my doubts about that for some reason.” His green eyes locked with mine. Looking into those eyes made me feel a bit tipsy. Damn bleeding out nonsense. A tiny snapping fingerling of lust danced from Oliver to me. Then my sister could be heard thundering into the cottage, calling out to see who the wagon belonged to. Oliver stepped away from me. “I’ll go speak with Amelia. No worries,” he said when I opened my mouth to talk. “I’ll come up with something better than your ‘I fell on a knife’ fabrication. I do hope to get the truth about your injury someday.”

It rankled to be bested by a bloody academic. A well-made and sensual academic, but an academic just the same. We’ll just blame it on blood loss and move on…

 

**To be continued…**


	6. Twinkle, Twinkle, Deadly Star - Chapter Six - Blood Loss and Begonias

**Twinkle, Twinkle, Deadly Star**

**Chapter Six**

**Blood Loss and Begonias**

(Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.)

“Can you pass the corn, please?” Amelia asked while sneaking bits of roasted chicken to the kitten on her lap.

Prism stood in the corner, quietly observing the meal, her cold eyes locked on our unexpected dinner guest. Amelia – gracious child that she is – insisted that Oliver stay for supper and then wriggled him into giving her a lesson after the meal. I’d much rather he’d gone on his way. I’d not yet had time to ask him what he had told Amelia about my stab wound, but whatever the artist had dreamed up seemed to have left her with only a few worries. Not knowing things in general rankled me. Not knowing what was going on in my own home infuriated me.

“So, where did you find him, John?”

How dare the gangly, curly-headed bugger come into my home and feed my sister something that…

“Captain? Amelia enquired as to where you found the kitten.” I responded to the sound of Oliver’s voice, snapping out of the fog I’d slipped into. My gaze darted from the teacher to my sister.

“Oh, I was walking back from the school and there he was alongside the road.”

Amelia smiled warmly. Some of the dark clouds of anger in me lifted a bit, like when the sun burns off rain clouds.

“I think he’s just the most amazing kitten ever. He’ll need a manly name. What do you think, Mr. Bancroft?”

“Ah, well,” Oliver patted at those kissable lips with his napkin. A log in the cook stove popped. “Perhaps since your brother found him he could come up with a suitable suggestion?”

They both stared at me. I washed down my bite of chicken with a large gulp of local wine. It was so dry I nearly puckered my lips. A few more goblets and the dull, thumping pain in my shoulder should disappear.

“Egbert,” I offered. Oliver’s eyes flared. Amelia giggled behind her hand.

“Perhaps I’ll pick out the name,” my sister graciously commented. I shrugged then grimaced. Amelia’s brilliant smile died instantly. “You should go rest. Thank goodness Mr. Bancroft happened upon you after you tripped and fell onto that hay fork in chicken coop. He’s a hero in my eyes. Yours too probably, yes, John?”

Tripped and fell onto a hay fork? How was that any better than my rather clever falling onto a knife story? My sight moved to Oliver. He was blushing a bit under my sister’s praise. “Oh yes, he’s my savior. I think I’ll be well enough to sit and watch you two paint.”

“If you’re sure. But don’t overexert yourself,” my baby sister chided. I’ll confess, it was nice to have one person who cared.

“We can assist you out into the garden, Captain, if you’d like to watch us paint.” Oliver offered and I inclined my head. He smiled and my goodness what do you know, a few more dour clouds burnt off. And I’d thought only my sister had that ability.

Amelia loved that idea, and within ten minutes, I was seated in the garden, swatting at hummingbirds with my good arm, as Amelia and Oliver set up their easels while talking about artsy things like composition, complementary colors, and palette knives. Prism was inside tidying up after the meal and the kitten was chasing butterflies. Leaning back on the bench as the artists chattered I drifted off to think of other things. Such as Janet’s obvious lie about that man at Dorium’s not being hers. Who else would even get within spitting distance of a poxy Voxian?

No, the man was hers, I’d wager my eyeteeth on it. As soon as I could stand up without falling back to the ground like a duchess who has cinched her corset too tightly, I’d be heading back to the Crimson Corset and I’d get some answers. Obviously, the greedy wench wanted the Eye of Flibbity-Gibbet for herself.

“What do you think, Captain?”

I blinked away the thoughts of drug queens and poxy henchmen to blink dully at Oliver and my sister awaiting my reply to a question. Damn, I hated looking stupid.

“Yes, of course.”

Amelia’s face lit up. She clapped and bounced in place then ran over to hug me gingerly regarding my shoulder while plastering my cheeks with kisses. What the bloody hell had I just agreed to?

“Thank you! I just _knew_ you’d see it as we do, although I thought it would take _far_ more convincing. I can’t wait until next weekend!” She squealed and flitted around the garden, even going as far as to scoop up the kitten, rub her nose into its orange fur, and dash off to inform Prism of the glorious news, the kitten clinging to her shoulder. I looked at Oliver. He seemed a bit too smug for my liking.

“She’s quite excited. Thank you. I promise she’ll be safe. I’ll have the students home before dark, rest assured.”

He’ll have her home? Fuck me in the arse with a prickly pear. What had I agreed to? Didn’t matter. Amelia wasn’t larking about without me.

“I plan to accompany you.”

Oliver drew back slightly as if my words had surprised him. “Oh. Well, it’s always pleasant to have another adult along to chaperone. I’d just not envisioned you as a man who liked to tour art museums.”

“I’ll have you know I love touring art museums.” Dear Neptune. Someone stab me in the eye with a rusty sprocket now. I bloody _hate_ art museums. They’re filled with nothing but pictures on walls. Where’s the excitement in that?

“And you feel that your wound will be properly healed in a week?”

“Trust me, my wound will be fine.”

The art instructor looked more amused than perplexed now. “Well that’s grand news. We’ll be round at dawn next Saturday to fetch you and Amelia. Make sure to wear comfortable shoes as we’ll be touring both museums in Lark Woods.”

Lark Woods. Oh yes. That was the capitol of this sheepy-smelling province.

“Looking forward to it.”

I pushed to my feet and dared the man to continue appearing haughty with a look. The self-assured twit continued looking superior. The man either needed a good swat in the face or soundly kissed. I took a step closer to him. A hummingbird raced past my head. Oliver’s face lost that smug appearance. A breeze wafted over us, stirring his dark curls. Desire leaped and danced in the mere foot of space between him and I.

“John, may we go to town tomorrow to purchase a new dress for the trip to Lark Wood?” Amelia called while racing into the garden. Oliver took a hasty step back. I blew out a breath then turned to face my sister and the kitten riding on her shoulder.

“Yes, that will be fine.”

Amelia smiled then tried to coerce me into kissing the kitten. I declined the offer. “You’re simply the best big brother ever. Isn’t he incredible, Mr. Bancroft?”

“Yes, he’s quite the man,” Oliver replied tactfully.

Amelia pressed a kiss to my cheek then bounced back over to her easel. I lowered myself to the bench, swatted at a hummingbird dive-bombing me, and watched my sister and Oliver spend another hour beginning their masterpieces. Oliver’s shirt was shapeless and loose, but his trousers fit across his ass quite well. Amelia chitted and chatted as she painted a begonia. The kitten climbed up my pant leg then curled into a tiny ball to nap on my chest. Every now and then I would catch Oliver glancing back at me, his gaze holding carnal secrets that I was growing more and more anxious to explore.

Yes, I could see how spending evening’s like this could be appealing…to some people. Other people. Not me, of course. I lived for action and adventure, robbery, sex, money, and mayhem. Sitting about in gardens with sleeping cats, giggling young women, and men who wore their magnificent ass and long powerful legs remarkably well was for people who weren’t Time Agents.

Time Agents thrived on thrills and violence. We Agents were special breeds. Just look at Jack. Oh. Well, perhaps Harkness, his team, and his cuddly-soft boyfriend weren’t good examples. What the _hell_ had happened to Jack? Poor slob had obviously allowed himself to fall in love with the man he was fucking. Such a silly mistake. You never let yourself feel for lovers. You paid lovers and then you went on your way. Like Dopto! Now there was a young man who--

I looked up from the cat I was stroking. Oliver’s gaze was on me again. He gave me a coy smile. My head began to feel light. Damn stabbings and the wooziness that follows.

 

**To be continued…**


	7. Twinkle, Twinkle, Deadly Star - Chapter Seven - Knock Knock

**Twinkle, Twinkle, Deadly Star**

**Chapter Seven**

**Knock Knock**

(Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.)

Two days later I saw Amelia and Prism off, waving at them with my left hand over my head, smiling like a simpering dolt. As soon as the wagon with the rainbow robot in the tweed jumper dress and my sister rounded the corner , I shut the front door and readied myself for another visit to Vox. Dressing was a little complicated but I managed quite nicely. Once I was suited up in my work outfit, I began filling every nook and cranny with weapons. Big ones, small ones, red ones, and blue ones. All of them were deadly if used by the proper sort. John Hart was a proper sort.

I flipped open my wrist strap, told the kitten to be good, and fed in the coordinates of the Crimson Corset’s third floor. A time portal opened beside me, sparking gold fingers of space and energy flowing and dancing. I stepped through the portal, guns out and up, and found myself in the attic of the seedy brothel. The portal popped shut behind me. Guns back in my holsters, I crept to the door, stepping around old barrels, trunks filled with dusty old gowns, and a gun cabinet.

“You’ll have to do better than this, Janet,” I murmured and popped the rusty old padlock with my strap. I emptied all the ammo into my coat pockets, then fused the padlock with a short blast from a palm-sized plasma energy blaster. The metal glowed red hot for just a moment then darkened as it cooled. The sounds of the brothel crept though the old floorboards and walls. Laughter, male voices, an old song playing on some sort of ancient musical device. Ah, a whorehouse. What warm and slippery memories the smell of sex and cheap alcohol stirs up.

Stealing quietly out of the attic, back to the wall, I made my way down the steep stairwell. The noise grew louder with each step down. Someone belched. A woman’s cackling laugh bounced up from the first floor. I slid the plasma weapon back into my pocket. One hand free, the other, my left, holding my gun, I gently wiggled the knobs on several doors. Most rattled slightly. Some were locked. The sounds of sex leaked out into the corridor. Ignoring the frivolity taking place, I snuck around the corner, my gaze falling on the stout wooden door that opened into Janet’s private quarters.

The music from below stalled. Whores and customers, both male and female, continued talking. I tried the doorknob, turning the burnished copper latch quietly. It was locked. And then, with the push of a button on my manipulator, it wasn’t. The door creaked open. I hurried inside, gun pointed at the large canopy bed Janet, Jack, and I had spent so much time in. The deep green coverings were the same, as was the large metal tub in the corner behind a changing screen adorned with gold fern leaves. The room even smelled the same.

Tangy with a hint of womanly musk. Not a bad smell. The scent of a woman. _Someone should make a movie titled that_. I began rifling through Janet’s drawers. Her underthings were particularly naughty. I recalled Jack being rather enamored of the drawer of ropes she had. He always did like to be the one in the authority role. Top dog. Top man. Top everything actually. I flung the soft ropes to the floor, held up a bustier, tossed that to the bed, and then discovered a small book wrapped up inside a silky little slip.

Padding around as I flipped through the leather-bound book, I removed one of her wigs from its stand, arranged it on my head, then flopped down into a fat stuffed chair beside the empty tub. I kicked my boots up to the side of the tub and read while I waited. The dusty old tome was filled writings that I couldn't decipher. A good twenty minutes passed before the door opened and the lovely Janet Graymerry strode into her private quarters.

“Hello dumpling,” I called as I placed the crosshairs right between her round amber eyes. “Come in, shut the door, and no shouting for help. You’ll want to save your voice for the long talk we’re going to have.”

“I wish you’d not wear my wigs,” she snapped after closing the door behind her. “Who knows where your mangy head has been.”

“Not between your legs. At least… not yet.” I blew a strand of artificial red hair from my face. “Have a seat. We have lots to chat about.” I flung the tiny book at her. “I’ve never known you to be a fan of antiquities.”

“I like to read.” She placed the book on her bed stand then began peeling off her clothing. “Someone left that lying about in one of the bedrooms.”

“Of course they did.” My gaze moved over her as increasingly more flesh was revealed. “Why don’t you just confess that the man at Dorium’s was yours? That will save me from having to torture the truth out of you.”

“Oh, trust me, I have no plans of sleeping with you ever again.”

I chuckled while she stepped out of her tight, leather breeches. “Oh, Poppet, you can _try_ to pretend that having sex with me was torturous but I think we all know better.”

“Oh, _Poppet_ , you’d be amazed at how convincing a woman can be when it comes to faking orgasms.” She strolled past, breasts free and bouncing, and stole her wig from my head. Then she stepped behind the screen. I let my head drop back so that I could watch her sliding a bright blue robe on. Janet gave me an over-the-shoulder look that would have set me on fire had my shoulder not ached like a rotten tooth reminding me that the wench had tried to kill me at least two times. Sleeping with her would probably be foolish.

“At least Jack and I came numerous times.”

“Typical man,” Janet grumbled then spun to face me, her silky blue robe barely covering all the pulchritude.

“So, tell me how you’re involved in this job of mine.”

“I told you when you were here a few days ago that I had no idea what the Eye of Parthock was. How _is_ that shoulder by the way?”

“Right as rain,” I smiled then rolled my shoulder to show her. It hurt like a red-hot poker up the ass but I grinned through it. Janet smirked knowingly. Bitch. “This will go much faster if you just tell me who hired you to look for it. Was it Dorium?”

“As if I’d give that ignorant blue prick the time of day.” She sashayed by the chair, her fingertips trailing over the back of my neck as she passed. “I’m not working for anyone, John.”

“Janet, do I look like a fool?”

“Do you want me to honestly answer that?” She stopped beside me then slowly kneeled. With gentle but strong hands, she pulled my feet down from the edge of the tub then grabbed my knees and spread my legs. “Or would you rather I use my mouth for something much more enjoyable?”

I’ll admit that I had a few seconds of stupidity, where the thought of one of her skilled blowjobs was tempting. You could see that she knew that I was considering letting my guard – and my zipper – down, because she wiggled tightly between my thighs, yellow eyes glowing with passion…or faked passion which was probably the case. See, that’s one of the tricky things about women. You _really_ don’t know if you’re pleasing them well enough. With Jack, it was obvious when he came. Same with me. Men are so much easier in so many ways.

I pressed the barrel of my gun to her temple. “As if I’d allow your teeth anywhere near my cock. The only thing that mouth of yours is going to do is tell me how deeply involved you are in the search for the Eye of Parthock.”

Her sensual mouth flattened. She sat back on her heels. “If I tell you what I know about the relic, will you work with me to find it?”

I laughed long and hard. Janet pushed to her tiny bare feet and stalked to the other side of the room.

“Work with you? That’s rich,” I said while I dried the tears of mirth from my face. “I trust you as far as I can throw you.”

She stopped pacing long enough to look me in the eye. “I know where it can be found.” She pointed to the book on the stand. “That book will lead us there.”

“This book is nothing but scribblings in some foreign language. None of it is understandable.”

“I know a translator.” I studied the woman intently, my gun still trained on her. “I’m leaving within the hour to visit him. Come with me. We can find the Eye together, sell it to the highest bidder, and live like kings for the rest of our lives.”

I lowered the gun. “How rich _is_ a king, exactly?”

She smiled sinfully. “Why don’t I tell you while we take a quick bath?”

“We?”

She nodded then pulled on a cord to summon one of the whores who worked for her. “We,” she purred as the first of many buckets of hot water quickly arrived.

Oh my, such a tempting offer…

 

**To Be Continued…**

 


	8. Twinkle, Twinkle, Deadly Star - Chapter Eight - Sleight of Hand

**Twinkle, Twinkle, Deadly Star**

**Chapter Eight**

**Sleight of Hand**

(Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.)

 

I’d actually went to push to my feet and join the minx. That was when the shoulder wound reminded me that bathing with Jenny Graymerry would probably be hazardous to my health. Now if only my brain would connect the pain in my shoulder to the throbbing erection in my pants. It didn’t help that she now had a bathing attendant, a blonde in a see-through shift that was rubbing soap all over Jenny’s scarred flesh. Pity Jack was missing this. He always had a weakness for blondes with legs up to their ears. Where or when his desire for pasty Welshmen came from I’ve not a clue.

“Sure you won’t join me?” Jenny purred seductively as the blonde ran the fat bar of pink soap under one of Jenny’s sizable breasts. I resituated myself on the chair. “There’s plenty of room for three. Sandra can sit on your lap.”

Oh, what a miserable little teasing twat she was. “While I appreciate the offer, I think I’ll sit here and stroke my gun.” I held up the weapon, kissed it softly, and then laid it back on my lap, hopeful that it would hide my hard-on.

“Why stroke anything with your own hand?” Jenny enquired, reaching up to rub her wet hands over blondie’s ample tits. A weaker man would have given in. John Hart was not a weak man. Stiff yes, but not weak. I got to my feet, practiced sneer in place, and strolled around the two women groping each other. Janet’s lazy yellow eyes followed me. I slid my gun back into the holster. A smug smile tweaked up the corners of her painted lips. “That’s right,” she sighed seductively, “put that gun away and come join us. You know you want to.”

“I do want to,” I confessed then reached out to draw a line down the bare arm of the leggy blonde. She too was scarred but that wouldn’t have mattered to me. I’d fucked far worse things than a poxy Voxian whore but we’ll not go there now. “But I also want to find this bloody trinket and get paid. So, enjoy your bath, Poppet.” I lunged for the side table, grabbed the tiny tome, and made a dash to the door. It opened and another wench stepped in, this one a brunette, carrying another bucket of water.

“Stop him!” Jenny screamed. I shoved the girl and her bucket aside, sprinted to the end of the corridor, and flipped open my strap. Feminine curses bounced down the hall. I glanced up just as a portal flared to life behind me. Jenny and her bath girls raced out into the corridor, all of them armed with rather big pistols.

“Many thanks, milady,” I called, bowed gallantly, and stepped into the portal. Several bullets followed me, striking the wall behind the bar at the Maldovarium. Bottles shattered. Booze flew into the air. Danta whipped a handful of swizzle sticks at me and Dopto ran to my side, babbling steadily.

“Nice entrance,” some horned bloke at table in the corner said.

“I try. You,” I grabbed Dopto by the wrist. “Come with me. I’ve got something for you.”

Dopto squealed with delight. He was so eager to take my silver that he didn’t even make it to the storage room before he was pawing at my fly.

“Oh, why not?” I grunted, shoved the book into the pocket that Egbert had slept in, and pushed Dopto to his knees. He had me out and into his mouth in seconds. His tongue tickled the knot of nerves just under the head of my cock. Eyes open in case someone snuck up on us, I let him slurp and suck, hallowing his cheeks, moaning deep in his lean throat, until I came with a fury. He had no hair to hold so I wrapped my fingers around his long ears, pumped forward, and let the orgasm roll over me. The door across from us opened, showing a rather disturbed Dorium Maldovar.

“Honestly, this couldn’t have been taken to the storage room?” the big blue man in gold and black robes asked. I shook my head, unable to speak at the moment, and enjoyed the final trembling shudders of my climax. “Right outside the door to my office is pushing things, John.”

“Ah…oh hell, I needed that.” I gently tugged Dopto off my cock. He bounced to his feet, licked his lips, and laid his head on my shoulder, lashes batting. “Got any silver dust for the lad?” I asked Dorium. The bar owner gave me a look that was void of any expression. “Look,” I said while tucking and zipping, “I got in that state while tracking down news about the Eye of Dibbly-Wibbit. The least you can do is--”

Dorium’s eyes went wide. “Do be quiet!”

“Well, just pay the lad for me. Deduct it from my wages.” I patted Dopto’s tiny red ass. He jiggled and wiggled against me.

“If I had the dust in my safe that you spend on whores I’d be a rich man.” Dorium muttered.

“You _are_ a rich man. Now go get the lad a tiny pouch of silver.”

“Fine.” Dorium stalked back into his office. I kissed the eager little whore to pass the time until Dorium appeared once again. He handed a tiny bag of silver dust to Dopto then waved the red-skinned server away with a bejeweled hand. “Come in here and tell me about what you’ve found so far.”

I followed Dorium into his office. It was a huge room filled with all types of oddities and antiquities, shelves filled with rare books, and a huge oil painting that looked as if it belonged back on Earth, hanging on the wall of some museum.

“This is the first time you’ve invited me into your office,” I said as I studied the oil on the wall. It appeared to be 3-D. I blinked to make sure I was seeing things right. I was. Then I reached out to touch the painting of a lizard-green sea with two fat moons hanging in a rose-colored sky. “This is bloody amazing,” I murmured as my hand went into the artwork. Amelia and Oliver would die to be able to create a work like this. I threw a fast look at my boss. “How is this accomplished?”

“Time Lord artistry,” Dorium stated off-handedly then deposited his wide ass into an even wider chair. I yanked my hand back out of the painting. Oh. Well, him then. I tried my best to keep as wide a berth as possible between myself and the last Time Lord. He and I had differing views on things such as guns, stealing, guns, murder, guns, drinking, guns, sex, guns, drugs, guns, and guns. “So, what have you discovered?”

I gave the painting one final glance then reached into the inner pocket of my coat and pulled out the small, leather-bound tome. Dorium’s eyes rounded.

“I have this.” I waved it about in the air. His gaze followed it like a hungry dog would follow the path of a bone being shook over its head. “Jenny Graymerry had it. I removed it from her possession.”

“Amazing!” The big man clapped. “You’re far cleverer than I thought. How did you get it? A bit of sleight of hand?”

“I grabbed it and ran.” I shoved the small book back into Egbert’s pocket. Dorium was an inch shy of pouting. “It’s filled with scribblings in some language that I’m not familiar with and I read over forty-five different languages commonly spoken in five different galaxies.”

“Hmm, well, I may know a person who could translate it. Why don’t you leave it here with me and I’ll see if I can locate this person?”

“I don’t think so.” I patted the book resting by my heart then flipped open my wrist strap. “When you have this translator here, give me a call. I’ll bring it back and we’ll see what it says together.”

“Captain Hart, your lack of faith in me wounds me deeply,” Dorium said.

“Yes, I’m sure you’ll be up all night weeping over the slight.” My portal home appeared beside me. I closed my strap, took a step, and then paused. “Oh, and Jenny and her dimwitted drug-dealing dolts may suspect that I’m working for you. You might want to put an extra bouncer or two on the front door.”

“I…what?!” Dorium gasped and shot to his slippered feet.

“ _Ciao_ ,” I called as I walked into the portal at the Maldovarium and stepped out in my garden at home.

I flopped down onto the garden bench and worked on removing my jacket. Each roll of my shoulder made me say foul words. I laid my jacket on the bench beside me. Perhaps I _should_ go see the healer. Maybe he or she would be able to make the redness and pain go away. A blue hummingbird zipped past my face. I was too exhausted to make an effort to swat at the annoying little prick. The sun warmed the top of my head and I let my eyes drift shut. The smells and sounds of Amelia’s garden moved over me: the buzz of bees, the scent of roses, the brush of hollyhocks in the gentle breeze. The sound of a kitten looking for company.

I made that annoying “psss-psss” sound one does when calling a cat. Egbert bounded out from under a leaf that resembled an elephant’s ear. He clawed his way up my pant leg until he was seated on my chest, staring at me with love-filled eyes, his feet making tiny holes in my pectoral.

“You’re a damned idiot,” I told the cat then let my eyes close yet again.

My nap under the blue skies of Tetra 14 was short-lived. The sounds of a man on horseback jarred me awake. I sat up, cussed at the flare of pain in my shoulder, and watched as Oliver Bancroft parked his stupid brown horse by the garden gate.

“When do you earn your wages?” I shouted as he slid down from his horse’s back with practiced ease. His smile was wide as he walked through the arch and was immediately attacked by angry hummingbirds. The man gently nudged the flying demons aside then removed an old straw hat from his head. His curls were a bit flat but still enjoyable to look upon.

“Good day, Captain Hart,” he called as he drew closer. Gone was the stupid brown suit and bow tie. In its place was the common, blousy white shirt and tight tan breeches all the men in this province wore. “Today I had but one class and it was an early one.”

“Ah. The life of a scholar,” I replied as he stepped up and blocked out the sun.

“It does seem rather grand until one recalls that I have to spend all day with teenagers caught in the violent, churning waters of adolescence.”

“A fate worse than death.” I removed the cat from my chest and squinted up at Oliver. “What brings you here on your light day then, Mr. Bancroft? Eager for some of my charming dialog and pretty eyes?”

He stumbled over that momentarily. I found the knowledge that he had come out to see me a rather nice ego boost. Maybe, if I played my cards right, I could sneak a kiss from the man out here in the garden.

“I…well, not entirely.” He ran a hand through his hair, fluffing the curls. Oh my, that looked like a fun thing to do with a hand. “I’ve misplaced my glasses and thought that perhaps I’d left them here the other day.”

“I’ve not come upon them but I’ll ask Amelia when she returns home.” I pushed to my feet and picked up my jacket. The tome I’d confiscated from Jenny fell to a flat, gray stepping stone. I hurried to reach for it then groaned in pain. Oliver bent down and snapped the book up before I could touch it. Yes, this wound was slowing me down. Time to see the healer. “I’ll take that, thank you.”

Oliver glanced at the cover then smiled. “You constantly surprise me, Captain,” he said as he handed the book to me.

“Why do people say that to me all the time?” I asked no one in particular. Egbert trotted off to pursue a fat bumblebee crawling about inside the pink peonies.

“I’d just not imagined a man of action and adventure, like yourself, would be reading such an old book printed in Latin.”

“You know what this says?” I showed him the worn cover. Oliver nodded while smiling like a hog in a mud puddle.

“I do indeed. I studied Latin while at university. It’s a dead language but quite fascinating in that--”

“Latin. Huh.” I gave the tiny tome a quick glance then held it up in the bright sunlight. “Tell me what the title says.”

“It says ‘Herein lies the path to the soul of a star’ or in so many words.”

“Mr. Bancroft, you’ve just secured yourself a dinner invitation.”

“Oh, well, that’s quite nice. Thank you, Captain.” His cheeks were as pink as the peony Egbert was batting.

I ran an appreciative eye up and down his long, hard body.

“Yes, it’s quite nice indeed.”

 

**To Be Continued…**

 


	9. Twinkle, Twinkle, Deadly Star - Chapter Nine - Ramblings of a Lusty Monk

**Twinkle, Twinkle, Deadly Star**

**Chapter Nine**

**Ramblings of a Lusty Monk**

(Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.)

 

Midnight was upon us. The meal was long over. The leftover pork cooling in the ice box, the plates washed and dried, the cat sleeping on my sister’s head, no doubt. A cool night breeze moved in the open window, bringing with it a respite from the warmth of the cook stove and the heady scent of honeysuckle. Oliver and I were seated at the kitchen table, Jenny’s old book and several sheaves of plain paper scattered about the table top. I was reading over a page that he had just translated.

“…the maid tossed aside her inhibitions and opened the laces on her tunic, showing the young man a peek of generous bosom.” I lowered the paper to find Oliver staring at me. “Are you sure this is the proper translation? Seems more like the ramblings of a lusty monk to me.”

“Oh, it’s properly translated, Captain, rest assured.” He laid down his pen then stretched his arms over his head while rolling his head. His long neck cracked several times. “I always had the best grades in Latin. Although,” he lowered his arms then placed his forearms on the table, “I do agree that this poor monk was having a rather rough time with his vow of celibacy.”

“Silly things, vows,” I muttered as I read over more accounts of heaving bosoms, long legs, and chaste but aching young monks. “Never really saw a need to make one.”

“Really? You’ve never once pledged yourself to a cause, king, or loved one?” His green eyes were resting on me. The dim lights played on his face well.

“The only cause any man should pledge fealty to is oneself. As for those in power, none of them are worth the regard I’d give sheep shit on my boots. Lovers…” I glanced from those stunning emerald eyes to the stars outside the open window nearby. “No, never made a vow to a man or woman. I came close a few times. There were a few men who I’d might have made a pledge to but they went off and grew to be suicidal weaklings or heroes who dally with coffee boys.”

“Coffee boys? I don’t quite understand what that is,” Oliver said.

I shook off the question. “Not important. So, in reply to your query, no, I have never made a pledge to a cause, king, or lover.”

“Not even your sister?”

“My sister wasn’t part of your question.” I sat back and crossed my arms, pulling the skin around the thumping wound tight. The moan of pain was out of me before I could stop it. Oliver shot to his feet, his face a mask of concern.

“Is that injury still bothering?”

“Not really.”

“May I look at it?”

“You’re such a naughty teacher. Trying to talk me into taking off my shirt.” Oliver moved around the table, his mouth a slash. “Fine. Look at it if it will get you back to work.”

With his help, we eased my right arm out of my shirt. Oliver peeled the bandage and wrapping off that he had applied. I heard his soft tsk-tsk when I was free from gauze.

“This looks terribly inflamed, Captain,” he informed me. I was aware of that, trust me.

“In the bath off my bed you’ll find a small bottle of brown liquid sealed with a cork. It’s a healing wash that I purchased from a dealer at the Gilarian Market.”

He bounded off and returned in under a minute with the bottle. I watched him keenly as he reentered the kitchen. Oliver Bancroft stood behind me, his hands on my bare shoulders, his breathing slightly jagged. I heard the cork pop out of the bottle.

“I’m going to see if I can cleanse the pus seeping out of it.”

The first touch of a wet cloth to my skin made me hiss, spit, and nearly snap the arm off the chair I was seated in. Then he did it again.

“Ouch! Fucking hell, man, stop diddering about back there and pour some of that damn shit on that blasted hole,” I snapped in pain, eager to have this over with.

“There is no need to be such a curmudgeon,” he replied then doused my stab wound with some of the putrid brown juice. I’d picked it up on a distant space station several months ago while hunting down a wayward wife. She’d turned out to be quite the handful in many ways. She never did return to her rich but nasty husband. I’d ended up taking her gold dust to kill him, but his death never happened either. How could I slay a man who’d given me such a good roll in the hay? Truly, I am a kind and genteel soul. The brown liquid sizzled and hissed.

“Fucking sniveling whoremaster’s son,” I shouted in pain. Oliver ignored the outburst then dabbed at the wound tenderly. “Just leave it,” I snapped when he tried valiantly to apply a clean bit of cloth to the throbbing area. “Maybe some fresh air will aid it.”

“I fear it’s become a touch septic,” he sighed as I pushed to my feet, my shirt dangling off me. “I do wish you would visit the healer. She’s tremendously gifted. And, she’s also got the sight.”

Trying to get my shirt back on made the me slightly woozy, so I just left it dangle from my left shoulder.

“I’ll go tomorrow.”

“Good, that’s pleasing to hear.” He gave me a soft little smile then went to the kitchen sink to wash his hands after tossing the soiled bandages into the low fire in the hearth. I stood by the table admiring his slow, leisurely movements. The way he used his fingers to turn the bronze taps on instead of his palms. How he lathered between those long fingers, saying something about something. I walked over to him, the residual heat of the cook stove touching the side of my face and bared chest as I passed it. “… old masters of romanticism. Perhaps you’ve heard of Duclet Piers? He’s one of the most famed artists to ever live on Tetra 14. His works demonstrate a diverse imagination and an awareness of the world around him that I find highly pleasing. We’ll see several of his most important works at the museum Saturday and I’m most keen on showing the students... Oh, would you like to wash up as well?”

I nudged him aside with my hip. The man took a step then two to the side then turned to avoid slamming his elbow into the ice box. His green eyes narrowed a bit then flared round as dinner plates when I grabbed him by the back of his neck and yanked his busy mouth to mine.

At first, he was resistant but the longer I held his mouth to mine, the less unwilling he became. His firm lips softened then he tenderly placed a hand to the shoulder without the festering wound. I stepped closer, pressing my body flush to his, tickling the seam of his lush mouth with the tip of my tongue. The breeze carried the sound of wind chimes in. Oliver then bent down to accommodate the differences in our heights. I pressed my fingertips more tightly to his neck, pulling on him, forcing him to hunker down even more. The tall, leggy bastard was a delight to kiss. His soft lips parted just a bit. Not enough to plunder but enough to feel his teeth with the tip of my tongue. I wanted more. _Needed_ more.

A loud crash in Amelia’s bedroom shattered the erotic moment. Oliver and I both started sharply. I had my guns out of my holsters before the man I’d just been kissing could gasp properly. Prism whirred to life, the sound pulling her instantly out of rest mode in the far corner.

“Scanning perimeter for aggressive forces,” the robot announced.

“It’s okay,” my sister called from behind her closed door. “Silly cat just knocked a bottle off the top of my dresser.”

I gave Oliver a look. He seemed fixated on the two guns in my hands. I shoved them back into their holsters.

“Stand down, Prism,” I told the robot. Her head dropped and she resumed resting silently in the shadowy corner. “Where were we?” I greedily enquired. Tall and lanky wiggled around me.

“I should go.” He grabbed his hat from the table. “I’ll return tomorrow to finish those translations.”

“Oliver…”

“No,” he backed to the door, his hat in his hand. “Time and distance would do us both good. Please do recall that I could lose my position at the academy if we were to…”

“Dally, yes, I recall that.” I shrugged to get my shirt back over my shoulder. I can’t begin to explain how badly rotating that arm hurt. I was beginning to wonder if Jenny had poisoned that fucking rapier. It’s something she would do. “But surely you must realize that dallying with me would be the most amazing dally you’ve ever had.”

His well-kissed lips turned up at the corners. I wanted to kiss him again. “Of that, Captain Hart, I’m sure. Good eve.” He stuffed his hat onto his head then hurried off.

“Fuck those uptight prigs at that school,” I grumbled then dropped down into a chair to flip through the several pages of translations Oliver had done before he insisted on playing nursemaid.

I’d never seen a monk so preoccupied with sex organs. And I thought I was bad. Well, I am bad but this poor sod was terrible. Blatting on and on about breasts, a quintuplet of red orbs of desire filling his mind and the night, swollen male members, blue balls, pink muffs, and fucking orange slices. Obviously, the pious Brother Milkfort was off his fucking rocker. Going too long without sex will do that. Which is why my only adherence to any divine dogma is to religiously get fucked at least once a week, more often if possible.

The steady thump-thump-thump of my infected shoulder sent me off to bed, where I spent a long night hiding Amelia from him in my dreams while ripping and clawing at the bedding. I woke up with a roar then spent the rest of the night sitting beside Prism, sipping whiskey, while cradling my pistols, my gaze on the path to my front door. Morning, and that visit to the healer, could not come quickly enough.

 

**To Be Continued…**


	10. Twinkle, Twinkle, Deadly Star - Chapter Ten - Dead Cats and Heavenly Objects

**Twinkle, Twinkle, Deadly Star**

**Chapter Ten**

**Dead Cats and Heavenly Objects**

(Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.)

 

 

The healer was an old woman - as per dictates of healerdom - whose tiny little hovel on the outskirts of town was one strong wind away from dropping down on the old woman’s filthy head. I had no sooner knocked when the creaking door had been flung open and Grandma Grunge appeared. She had little hair and fewer teeth. Her gown was soiled, her hair lank, and her complexion age spotted. A most unfavorable smell crept out of the house.

“I was expecting you,” the old bat said.

“Yes, of course you were,” I replied then gave the road leading here a long look. It wasn’t too late to return home. The road began to waver a bit, splitting into four dirt lanes. “I have a wound that’s festering. Got anything for it?”

“Yes, yes. Bazelwood bark simmered with the toenail of a Raxelian should do the trick.” She pulled me into her shack, shoved me into a seat at a rickety table, and then went to a cabinet in the corner. The house smelled like dead cat. No, that’s incorrect. Whatever the old woman was stewing on her _woodstove_ smelled like a dead cat.

“So, tell me, Madame Aspery, where did you learn your craft?”

She mumbled to herself as she searched through the cabinet, taking one small colored bottle out then putting it back. “I know I have ground toenail in here – Ah! Yes, here we are.”

She rushed to the kettle on the stove, uncorked the tiny blue bottle, and dumped some gray powder into the pot. Green-black steam rose from the kettle with a hiss. Okay. No. I was not about to slather my wound with dead cat and toenail stew. I’d sooner die from the poison or infection, whichever was working its way through me. I pushed to my feet. The short little troll spun around, her pale blue eyes locking onto me. Her head twitched once, then again, as her eyes bulged. Probably the old crow was having some kind of reaction to the fumes coming off that kettle on the wood—

“The souls of millions will be emblazoned on the night sky ten days hence. Four red orbs converge, the dead will rise, the cow give sour milk, and the Lord of Parthock shall then open the skies and death shall rain down upon us all.”

“Can you bottle that up to go?”

She coughed up a large ball of phlegm that hung off her bottom lip. Her eyes never moved, never blinked. The fumes of the noxious glop on the stove began to make my nose run and my eyes water.

“I can come back when it’s ready,” I said then took a step.

“Find the Eye. Locate ‘The Oncoming Storm’.”

I blinked. Seems the rumors of her having some sort of precognition was right. She blinked back.

“Where do I find this “Oncoming Storm’?” I asked.

“How the hell should I know?” She gave me an odd look, then turned to ladle some putrid green slop into a large bottle. Using her tattered sleeve as a hot pad, she shoved the bottle into my chest. “One small sip once a day. It will purge the poison in your system.”

She held out her hand. The dribble of phlegm still dangled off her lip.

“Yes, right.” I dug into my front pocket, dropped a small bag of silver dust into her palm, and then left as quickly as I could. I got to the first bend in the lane when another wave of dizziness overtook me. Stumbling off the road, I found a large soft-barked tree to rest under until the vertigo passed. I needed to teleport back home but the buttons on my strap all blurred together. Making the jump in this state could result in me ending up on some far-off planet with no atmosphere, or worse, Earth.

I still held the bottle in my hand. The glass was oddly cool given that the liquid inside had been boiling. Magic. I hated magic. The world tipped dangerously. Despising my weakness and that old witch, I uncorked the bottle, and took several large gulps.

The taste wasn’t terrible. It wasn’t good roast beef or a fine brandy, but it wasn’t as bad as I had assumed it would be. Resting under the tree, the wooziness passed slowly as I ran the hag’s words over and over. If I’d been thinking properly, I’d have used my strap to record what she had said. There was something about ten days, four red orbs, night skies, and sour milk. Oh, the need to locate an incoming storm. No, it was an oncoming storm. Stupid mages with their idiotic prophesies and cryptic mumbo-jumbo. Why not just tell a man what he needs to know? Would that have been asking too much?

“Well, the four red orbs theme seems consistent,” I mumbled to myself, tipping my head back to let it rest on the tree. A tiny inchworm dangled above my head on an invisible silken thread. A song bird whistled sharply twice. This really was a nice little town, oracles who cooked dead cats aside. And Oliver was to be found here, which was rather charming also. _He_ was rather charming. And kissable. Smart as well. Leggy too. Yes, Oliver Bancroft was quite the man. I giggled softly, waved at the inchworm, and then slid to my ass.

How long I sat under that tree I didn’t know, but rousing myself from the psychedelic dreams was difficult. I woke myself up laughing. Then I cried. Then I began singing a song that I’d not heard since my mother rocked me to sleep. Jack appeared as did his little tea boy. They both danced in a circle while wearing pink and green frocks. I joined them. Okay, perhaps I wasn’t quite awake yet, but I felt that I was…mostly.

“John, is that you?”

I tittered then stopped spinning in a circle. A plum-colored horse attached to a rainbow wagon stood in the middle of the road speaking to me.

“Good day, Milady Mare,” I called then bowed, nearly going to my face.

“You’ve been at the pub, haven’t you?” the horse asked.

“No, I have not. I’ve been dancing with my friends,” I confessed then took a wobbly couple of steps closer to the horse. “Well, one is my friend, the other is this odd sort of annoyance. Like a fly that keeps landing on your neck.”

I looped my arm over the purple horse’s neck. Its ear flickered. “How about you ride in the back and we’ll get you home?”

“You know, you sound a good deal like my sister,” I whispered beside the horse’s ear.

“Fancy that,” the horse replied. I snorted in amusement and then was hoisted up and carried to the back of the wagon by a silver woman wearing a hat as large as the sun. I rolled to my stomach, found a sack of ground corn, and rested my head on it.

“I love corn,” I told the horse who spoke with Amelia’s voice.

“Only when its ground into mash and made into whiskey,” the horse said then flew me home.

 Waking up after that ride seemed much more difficult. I’d bounce up to swat at the cloudy haze of unconsciousness, but only get a glimpse of a face or the soft sound of a voice, and then the cloud would seal back up and I’d tumble back into nothingness.

I prowled the edges of hell then fell into arctic lakes. People I’d not seen for years spoke to me. Lovers long dead stroked my cheek. I ran from a hulking form with a belt in his hand, urging my sister onward. Geirr cradled me as I lay dying from a blaster wound on the far shores of Kcrem Ot, begging Jack to do something. My mother laughed at a story I’d told her. I cried at her grave. He appeared again, tried to take Amelia, but I hit him in the face. Several times. Yet he still came for us…for her. I jumped up at the sky again, grabbed a cloud and tore it apart, shredding it with ease like cotton batting… I heard her and smelled him.

“John, please, try not to fight us so,” Amelia pleaded.

“Let me tend to him, Miss Amelia,” Oliver firmly stated, catching my flailing hands and pinning them over my head. The headboard creaked. The bed spring squeaked. My eyes opened slowly. Looking through them hurt so I let them drift shut. His unique scent filled my nose. Man and rose on linen. The man’s weight on my chest wasn’t unpleasant at all. All the pluck – and fear – leeched out of me as Oliver pressed my arms into the well-ticked mattress.

Forcing my eyes back open, I saw that his mouth was mere inches from mine. His green eyes – looking larger and deeper green in the weak light of a lantern – found mine. Something ensued then. A happening of sorts wherein Oliver Bancroft and John Hart saw into each other. I liked what I saw in his gaze. What he saw in mine was hard to say, but he smiled tenderly.

“Ah, there you are.” He released my wrists and sat back, his curls wildly seated on his skull, his glasses just a bit askew. “Welcome back, Captain.”

Amelia wiggled up onto the bed on my right side. She cupped my face. “He feels much cooler. John, how do you feel?”

“Better…now that I … see you,” I croaked. She bent over to kiss my brow, a short, coughing sound of joy escaping her.

“You’ve got to be thirsty. Let me get you some tea.” She gathered her dress up and slid from the bed, her cheeks wet. I watched her bound off while yelling for Prism to put the kettle on and dig out the bags of Yorkshire Gold. Ah, my favorite tea. Such a good girl she was.

 Oliver shifted on the bed. My attention went to him. “You look much better, Captain. You had us all quite worried.” He stood up, looking awkward and all too attractive. God, I was tired. Tea sounded wonderful though. I wanted to stay awake for that.

“Why are you here?” I asked, my voice reedy.

“Miss Amelia sent Prism round to fetch me the first night you fell ill.” He looked torn between wanting to leap out the door or sitting back down beside me, his eyes flicking from the door to the bed. “I’ve been here every evening since.”

“The first night? How long have I been out of it?”

“Tomorrow will be the fourth day. It was quite the round of fever fueled by the overdose of the tonic the healer gave you.” He decided then to sit down. I was glad for that. I liked the way the bed sank under him, and how he smelled manly yet floral. Obviously, my mind was still caught in the grips of fever. Imagine me waxing over the way some bumbling academic smells. It really was quite the –

“Fourth day?” I sat up woozily. “No, that’s not possible.”

“Oh, but it is. Captain, you should sit back down. You’re not at all recovered yet.” He placed one of those big hands on my bare chest and gently pushed. I battled valiantly, but one tiny nudge had me flat on my back. Damn the man and his Herculean strength.

“But that means we only have six days left…” I argued but didn’t try to sit up again. I feared I’d have a fit of the vapors if I did.

“Six days left for what?”

“To save the bloody universe, I suppose.”

 

**To be continued…**


	11. Twinkle, Twinkle, Deadly Star - Chapter Eleven - Plans and Pudding

**Twinkle, Twinkle, Deadly Star**

**Chapter Eleven**

**Plans and Pudding**

(Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.)

 

“Captain, I really must insist that you stay in bed.” I threw Oliver a sour look then flung the covers back, baring my balls to the man. His green eyes widened, a rosy hue touched his cheeks, and then he spun around. “You’re not in any condition to be getting up.”

“Yes, well, someone has to find this bloody trinket and do something with it. I’ll not have my sister blown up with the rest of the sludge that lives in this solar system.” Oliver sputtered. “Present company excluded.”

“I should hope so,” he told the wall. I got to my feet. Everything seemed fine until the fluid inside my skull shifted to accommodate my now vertical position. The room tipped to the left. My body toppled to the right. Oliver hustled over, grabbed me around the waist, and then drug my limp body back to my bed.

“This is beyond embarrassing,” I snarled as I clung to him weakly.

“You are one horribly stubborn man,” he grunted then heaved me back up to the mattress. “You are also one horribly naked man. Now sit there and let me find you some trousers before your sister comes back and sees your backside bared to the world.”

“You’re ridiculously cute when you’re trying to be bossy.”

“Really?”

“No, not at all. Don’t ever tell me what to do again.” I stood up to make my point to the towering twit. My knees folded like a concertina and I was back on the bed again. “Well fuck this,” I groaned and fell backward, the duvet pillowing up and out. “Trousers would be beneficial although I do hate having to deny you your guilty pleasures.”

He sputtered a bit then spun on his heel. Ha! So, he had been enjoying that eyeful of my cock. I’d rather enjoy getting a peek at his as well someday. Ugh, my gods but my head was touchy yet. Lying on my back staring at the ceiling, I listened to Oliver rummaging in my wardrobe. The rooster crowed out in the garden, a soft wind blew over me, and the universe would go boom in six days unless I could figure out a few key things. Such as where this Eye of Parthock was, how it worked, what I was supposed to do with it, and where the feck the oncoming storm was.

“Here, let’s get these on you.” Oliver then slipped my feet into a pair of pants. With him holding me up, we got the trousers up over my ass then zipped.

“This truly will be the last time you dress me,” I informed him. He cinched me tighter to his side his kissable lips flattened, and together we slowly made our way to the kitchen.

“John! What the hell are you doing out of bed?!” Amelia scolded while pouring water into a tea cup.

“What the hell are you doing using such unladylike language?” I wheezed, the short walk from the bed chamber to the kitchen terribly strenuous. Oliver gently placed me in a chair then stepped back to allow my sister to get into my face and berate me for several minutes.

“You’re very cute when you’re trying to be protective,” I told her. “But, as I told Mister Bancroft, I’ve not got time to didder about in bed. Oliver,” I turned to look at him hovering behind me, his bottom lip between his teeth. “Tell me that you’ve finished those translations while you’ve been here.”

“Oh, yes, I did. Let me fetch them.” He hurried off to rustle about on the small desk by the hearth. I gave Amelia a loving look. She stuck her tongue out at me and slammed my tea down on the table in front of me.

“I do wish you’d stop talking to me as if I’m a child,” she informed me curtly. “Also, the next time you tell me to be more ladylike I’ll punch you in the throat.”

Prism walked over to deliver small bowls of butterscotch pudding to us. My stomach roared as I stared dumbfounded at my sibling.

“Where do you learn such things?” I enquired.

“Where do you think?” She gathered up the flouncy dress she wore then shook the gown and petticoats soundly. “This may be how we have to dress on this planet to blend in, but it is not what I am. I’m the sister of Captain John Hart of the Time Agency, and I know a thing or two!”

“A Time Agent?” Oliver asked, flopping down next to me with papers and pens and scrolls aplenty. I glowered at Amelia. She glowered back. “I’d thought they were just legends. Are you really a Time Agent?”

“Was. I _was_ a Time Agent. The Agency has closed and those who worked for them are now scattered through several galaxies or dead. You,” I wagged a shaky finger at my sister, “were not to know about any of that.”

“John, did you honestly think I believed that you went off with Doctor Indiana Jones to find treasures?” She asked then bent over to kiss my shaggy cheek. “Now, stop being such a dunderhead and tell me about this Eye of Parthock problem.”

When had the child grown up? How had that happened? I’d done my best to keep her protected and coddled. Lord knows growing up with him the tender pigeon needed swaddled and coveted. I looked at the scholar gaping at me as if I’d become something new in his eyes. Which was one reason among many that I never revealed what I used to be. It was in the past – for the most part – and my life now was vastly different.

“Someone contacted me to search for a small trinket…” I began with. I explained what I knew to Amelia and Oliver. I left names out but they were both smart and followed along well. I wrapped up the telling after downing a second cup of tea and a bowl of pudding that had been whipped up by the lethal robot in a gingham dress.

“Well, that’s quite the tale,” Oliver said, his fingers resting on the rim of his tea mug, his glasses on the end of his nose. “The healer is gone,” he blurted out as his gaze touched and held mine. I cocked an eyebrow. “I know, I found it odd as well. I’d gone to fetch her after you’d fallen so ill and her cottage is empty, down to the spider webs. It’s like she had never even been there at all.”

“Curious,” I murmured, my sight moving from Mr. Bancroft to the fire. “We’ll have to worry on that oddity later,” I said then looked back at Oliver. “Tell us what the rest of those translations were.”

“They were rather out there, to be honest.” Oliver spread his papers out in front of him, then shoved his glasses up his nose. It was a cute move and … for fuck sake. I truly needed to stop that. Cute? Honestly, John? Who cares about cute? Cute is for puppies and smitten idiots like Jack and Eye Candy. I wager they find each other’s mannerism’s _cute_. Oliver pushing his glasses up his nose was erotic. There. Let’s get back to being base. Makes things far less confuddling. “He spent a great deal of time discussing adult themes.” At that Oliver threw me a fast look that I replied to with my own look that said, ‘I recall the themes and they won’t be discussed in front of my sister’ then jerked my chin at him to continue. “Right.” He cleared his throat. “Among all the mature themes, one could glean some true information.”

“It would make understanding what we’re discussing easier if I was told everything that’s contained in here,” Amelia said while tapping on the small tome.

“No,” Oliver and I said at once. Amelia frowned at both of us.

“Go on,” I told Oliver.

“Yes, well, the good brother told us about Parthock,” Oliver mumbled while searching through papers. When he found the one he was looking for, he pulled it out and held it aloft, grinning like a bear in the honey pot. “Yes, here it is.” He laid down on the table then pressed a few crinkles out with his long fingers. “According to Brother Milkfort, Parthock is the bringer of destruction to this universe. Many millennia ago Parthock had devoured hundreds of planets before arriving here, and here is vague but I think we can assume here to mean our galaxy.” He glanced at Amelia and I. We both nodded. “When he arrived in our space, its rumored that a storm arrived and stopped Parthock somehow, ripping him into bits, and dispersing those parts to various points across all the known universes.”

“This storm,” I interceded, because that tickled the memory of what the healer had said when she had slipped into her channeling spirits nonsense. “Does it say anywhere in here where it can be found? It is a meteorological event? It must be, yes? What other kind of storm is there?”

“It never said. The few hints I dug out were about millions of souls, the night sky, four red orbs, and sour milk.”

“That’s exactly what our missing healer told me, well more or less. Then she gave me that tonic and things went a little left of center,” I confessed.

“A little, yes, you could say that,” Oliver muttered into his tea cup.

“And the healer told you that we only had ten days?” Amelia asked, her brown eyes worried. I had hoped to spare her more worry or strife. Damn it. I hate to fail.

“Yes, which was four days ago.” I tapped on the edge of my cup, pondering. “Six days to find a storm and the Eye of Parthock. Do we think it’s truly this monster’s eye?” The others at the table shrugged.

“There was no mention of exactly what Parthock is,” Oliver filled in.

“How does one go about locating a storm large enough to stop a monster that eats planets? Wouldn’t a storm of that size obliterate the galaxy instead of saving it? I fear Brother Milkfort was sipping some of the same tonic the healer gave me.” I stated.

“Perhaps we’re being too literal,” Oliver said after several long and silent minutes passed. Egbert sauntered out for a taste of cream which my sister gave him from her saucer. I stared at our new friend openly, willing him to speak. Time ticking away was not our friend. I’d wasted four days on my back, we couldn’t afford to waste another second.

“How do you mean?” I asked.

Oliver took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. It was not cute. Nope. Not at all. Not even slightly.

“Perhaps this ‘Incoming Storm’…”

“Oncoming. It was an ‘Oncoming Storm’,” I quickly corrected. Prism moved around the table clearing off the empty pudding bowls.

“Yes, sorry. Perhaps this ‘Oncoming Storm” isn’t a weather occurrence at all. Perhaps it’s a god’s name or an ancient reference to some sort of alien not known in this galaxy?”

“Possibly.” I chewed on my spoon, thinking while I masticated. I then pushed to my feet, using the table for leverage. My legs felt a wee bit more stable under me, but the room still wiggled and wobbled a bit. Oliver jumped to his feet. “We need to track down someone who has knowledge of such things.”

“A professor of giant space storms?” Oliver asked. My, he was turning into quite the cheeky thing. I wager he’d be far less spunky after we fucked ourselves into comas.

“Yes, a professor of giant space storms.” I took a step, smiled smugly at how sassy I was, and then tumbled soundly into Oliver. “I just happen to know of such a man.”

“John, you’re not thinking of teleporting in your condition, are you? You can barely stand.” Amelia also got to her feet. Oliver slipped his arm around me. He was getting quite familiar. I rather liked it to be honest.

“I was hired to find this stupid thing. If I don’t we might all end up as space dust. Or worse, I won’t get paid. I’ll be fine.”

“John, please reconsider?” Amelia pleaded, cradling her kitten to her chest.

“Sorry, dumpling, but someone has to step up. Might as well be me.”

“Then I’ll go with you,” Oliver piped up. I laughed aloud and got a dark glare from the man keeping me upright.

“Oh God, you were serious.”

“Yes. I was quite serious, Captain.”

“Mister Bancroft…” He continued frowning at me. “Oliver… it’s not that I don’t treasure your company, for I do, but this isn’t a field trip to the local art gallery. It’s intergalactic travel into a possibly dangerous or deadly situation.”

“So?” Oliver asked. I glanced at Amelia. She seemed to be impressed with Oliver’s idiotic stance.

“So I’ve not got the time to carry you around like a suckling babe while I track down trinkets and cold fronts.” My wobbly legs chose that moment to wobble. Amelia gasped. Oliver saved me from puddling on the floor yet again.

“Seems it would be me carrying _you_ around, Captain,” the scholar smugly stated. This man was really pushing. Things were going to change between him and I just as soon as I could take four steps without my legs turning into curd. “I’ll be a well-mannered travelling companion. I once journeyed to the second moon of Alpha Den Six for a conference on themes and practices in contemporary art. My other teachers voted me ‘Most Pleasant’ out of forty in our group.”

“John, please let Mr. Bancroft go with you. Please?” Amelia pleaded.

I refused to look at her. I shoved Oliver away then took hold of the back of a kitchen chair to steady myself.

“John, please?” I looked at her. Damn me to hell. I knew better. Her brown eyes were dewy and her little bottom lip trembled.

“No,” I managed to say.

“It’s either him or me,” my sister boldly informed me. “You’re too weak to go alone. So pick.” She folded her arms under her breasts.

“He can come,” I relented then stumbled into my bedroom to shut the door on them both and the fucking cat. The room seemed smaller than it had and decidedly tilted to the left.

“I’m off to pack and send a message to the head master that I’m taking a short leave of absence.” Oliver called through the door. “I’ll be back within the hour and we can depart for adventure!”

“The fate of the universe depends on a most pleasant academic and a feverish, feeble Time Agent. We’re doomed,” I told my bed. It seemed to agree.

 

**To be continued…**


	12. Twinkle, Twinkle, Deadly Star - Chapter Twelve - We'll Need Extra Tartar Sauce

**Twinkle, Twinkle, Deadly Star**

**Chapter Twelve**

**We’ll Need Extra Tartar Sauce**

(Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.)

 

An hour later I was playing the part of inspector general, walking tenderly around Oliver, running a keen eye over his choice of travelling clothes. There was not a thing wrong with the tan trousers, sturdy brown leather ankle boots, or the comfy white linen shirt that he’d tucked into his breeches then secured with a belt complete with canteen. Nope. He looked well-suited to travel. I just enjoyed padding slowly around the man and looking at his body as my mind wandered to a salacious place.

“Where’s your firearm?” I asked as I lingered behind him, my eyes on his ass, my hand on the wardrobe to steady myself. Amelia was right. I shouldn’t be doing this. Hell, I shouldn’t be out of bed if my trembling thighs were any indication but there was no one else to shoulder the burden.

Oliver looked down at me over his broad shoulder. “I don’t believe in guns, Captain.”

Ugh. “Do you have a weapon of any kind? Knife? Slingshot? Rubber band? Really, man, you have nothing to defend yourself with but that old canteen and your straw hat?”

“I have my walking stick,” he replied then pointed at said walking stick in the corner of the living room resting beside his knapsack.

“If we stumble across a snake on the path I’ll make sure to let you take the lead.” How had I let them talk me into this? Amelia put a hand under my elbow when I began leaning to port a bit. Yes, that was how. “Right. Give me a kiss.” She rose to her toes to peck me on the cheek. “You are not to leave the grounds; do you understand me?”

“You’ve told me that six times. Keep Prism close. Do not leave the property. If anyone shows up unexpectedly shoot them in the eye and let the crows have them. Stay away from the windows.” She ticked off my list of rules on her fingers. I was not amused but she was. “Oh, and when I go to bed make sure I sleep with that flamethrower you brought back from Windy Moon.”

“Flamethrower?” Oliver croaked.

“One never knows when one will need to throw a flame.” I embraced Amelia, inhaling deeply, my nose buried in her flowing hair. I pulled back to gaze at her. “You know how to contact me. Simply tell Prism to hook up to me via the programming in her communications core.”

“Yes, I know. We’ll be fine. Go.” She slid out of my arms then picked up Egbert and made him wave a paw at us. I smiled. Dear Lord. The child was turning me into a ponce. I flipped open my wrist strap and tapped in coordinates to a distant planet in a much smaller galaxy. A rift portal popped open with a sharp crack that scared the kitten out of a life. Egbert took off like a streak for the spot behind the ice box.

“Take my hand, Oliver, and hold onto your hat.”

 He ran to get his knapsack and walking stick, tucked the stick under his arm after getting the bag onto his back then wiggling this way and that to find the pocket with his spare glasses. Just to double check. He slapped one hand to his head. The other he offered to me. We were so miserably doomed.

I threaded my fingers through his, pulled him to my side, and then stepped from my tiny chalet on Tetra 14 to the warm white beaches of Solar Dex, a retirement planet. The teleport made me feel a bit less than solid. I released Oliver’s hand. He fell to the left, groaning, his hands and knees in the deep purple water lapping up on shore. Then he vomited noisily. I rushed to get away from him before the mess slipped back out to sea with the tide and splashed over my boots.

“Virgins. Always so much whimpering and whining about their precious tummies.” I scoffed then tripped over a crab the size of a Corgi and went to my ass. The deep blue-colored crab latched onto my boot with its claw. I shook my leg as Oliver fell face first into the sand, his arms and legs akimbo, his last meal going out to sea.

“I think I may die,” my fellow saver of the universe moaned then coughed and sputtered as the tide came in and washed over his head. I reached down to pull the stupid crab from my boot. It snapped at my face. I whipped it at one of the fat palm trees swaying in the gentle, salty wind. It made a high-pitched sound akin to a fire siren then it splatted on the tree and was quiet.

 No wonder all the old folks came here to retire. Warm winds, hyacinth-colored water washing over ivory sands, geezer eating blue crabs roaming about. Everything I’d want in my dotage. People. Honestly.

“You’ll not die. Just get to your feet and the feeling will pass.” I sat on my ass staring out at the purple sea. My brain was spinning around inside my skull. From the teleport no doubt, and the lingering fever/acid trip I’d been on. Yep. I was feeling tip-top. Oliver began dry heaving as he got to his elbows and dragged his soaking wet self out of the sea.

“Captain, I’m sorry,” he weakly said then fell to his back beside me. His glasses hung off one ear. I plucked them off his head then tucked them into my coat pocket. “I’ll need just a moment or two. I was unaware of how similar teleporting is to space flight.”

“You suffer with motion sickness?” Waves tumbled over us, soaking my pants through. I wished the sea would stop being so wavy. It was playing havoc with my stomach and head.

“Slightly,” he said between rounds of gagging and spitting. “I do have pills…in my bag…”

“Some saviors of the galaxy we are,” I muttered, my eyes trying to focus on the rather large surge of water rolling at us. It didn’t break into a pretty little whitecap as the others were doing. This one pushed closer and closer, then two large eyes on deep blue stalks emerged from the water. “Oh fuck,” I coughed as a crab the size of a Bruydak war ship rushed out of the sea. “Up! Get up! Get up!”

Oliver said something. It sounded like “Gak” right before I battled to my feet and tried to run. Massive claws tried to pluck us from the foam. Oliver screamed. I lunged to the left to avoid being pinched in half. It seemed to be an angry crab. Had I just killed its crabby baby?

“It’s as big as my barn!” Oliver yelled, fumbled and flailed to his feet, and then with bravery that I wouldn’t have credited the teacher for, took his walking stick and began beating on the crab’s shell. A loud CRACK! was heard. I fell to the left, going down on my knee, and pulled out a gun. Aiming was dodgy what with my vertigo, Oliver dancing about with his stick, and the crab taking umbrage to the man with the stick wailing on it. I popped off a round. Oliver yelped in fright then ducked. The crab lunged at him. I took another shot, using the horizon to try to level my sight pattern, and this time managed somehow to blow off one googly eye.

“That’s rather nasty,” I grimaced at the mess. Having its one eye shot off seemed to make the crab even crankier. It waved its claws in the air, knocking Oliver to his ass. He lost his stick. I took another shot – or ten – peppering the massive crustacean with bullets. Blood and chunks of crab meat flew into the air. Oliver splashed about blindly looking for his walking stick. “Just leave the stupid stick and get out of the water!”

“ _NO!_ ” He roared at me then held his stick aloft. The crab made one final rush at the man hooting in glee about locating a stick. I fired wide. Oliver got to his feet and took a swing. His stick broke one of the spindly legs. Down went the crab. My sidekick gave me a grin and a thumb-up then drove the stick deeply into the wide crack on the back of the crab. The walking stick sank in deep right behind the crab’s eyes. It shuddered then dropped down onto the sand, its legs jutting out to the sides.

I swallowed several times to get my rolling stomach under control. My eyes were watering. I shoved my gun back into its holster then collapsed to my ass. Oliver wrenched his walking stick free then hurried over to me, his face a mask of worry.

“Captain, are you well? Your color is quite like an asparagus. Captain? Oh dear. I’ve got you.”

I don’t remember much after I passed out in his arms. Waking up just a few moments later, I blinked and pawed at the sand caked around the corner of my eyes. When I could see again, it was Oliver that swam into view. His hand rested on my brow. The smile that swept his lips upward was quite lovely. He had gotten his glasses out of my coat pocket. They appeared to be slightly bent.

“Is my head in your lap?” I asked as his thumb gently stroked my eyebrow. Waves lapped around my feet.

“It seemed better to elevate your head to avoid drowning,” he replied, the tender stroking stopping sadly. “Are you feeling more yourself? I managed to find my backpack. I have a few analgesics among my motion pills, if you’d like one? I also have a small bottle of mouth rinse, some shampoo, and a rather lovely bar of rose soap, if you need any of the above listed items.”

“Hmm? Ah, yes, I think so.” With a bit of help I managed to sit up. The dead crab lay a few meters from us. “Did you bring any bread crumbs in that knapsack of yours?”

“No, I’d not thought of that. Pity. We could have crab cakes for dinner for a year.”

I gave him a pleased smile. He was quite quick at picking up my clever comments. Not everyone was. Being quick-witted was a large plus in my choice of lovers. And he would be a lover. I’d not rest until he was in my bed.

“You’re quite a surprise, Oliver. When we first met, I thought you were merely some spindly, spectacle-wearing, scarecrow of a scholar but now--”

“A spindly scarecrow? Did you really think that was all I was?” He sounded upset. I looked from the crab to him. Oh yes, he was upset. His sleek brows were knotted, his nostrils flared, and his shoulders tight.

“Well, most scholars are known to be a little lacking in the aggression and manly behavior department, but you’ve--”

He cut me off again. Not with words but with an unexpected kiss that sent me to my back with his mouth slanted over mine. Oliver crawled over me, pressing my shoulder blades deeply into the sand, using his tongue to get me to open for him. My fingers went into his curls just as his tongue went deeply into my mouth. The man kissed me assertively with long, deep, hot explorations. I tasted mint on his tongue. Probably that mouth rinse he had mentioned. His hard, angled, masculine body fit to mine perfectly. My hips rose from the sand and tide, eager to feel his hard cock nestled next to mine. We pawed and grunted. I held onto his head tightly, tipping him left so we could get deeper, if that was possible. As brusquely as the kiss began, it then ended.

 Oliver flung himself off me, staggered to his feet, and pointed one of his long fingers at me as I lay in the surf with a throbbing hard-on. He was quite erect himself, those tight, tan breeches clinging to him in all the right places. I wet my lips. They were sandy and salty and rich with the tang of Oliver Bancroft and mint.  

“I am not a spindly, scarecrow who lacks in aggression and manly behavior.” God but he was adorable with his wet curls, flaming green eyes, and hot indignation. “If you have need to question how unspindly and forceful I am, just remember that kiss.”

With that pronouncement, he gathered his precious walking stick from the sea, and strolled off leaving me hot, hard, and properly chastised.

“Oh, trust me, Oliver, I’ll remember that kiss for quite some time,” I murmured to the sole cloud passing over in the pale blue sky. He splashed back to me lying the in surf. I gave him a questioning look. “That was a quick tiff,” I said as sea water rolled into my ears.

He offered me his hand. “Partners do not leave their colleague behind.”

I reached for him. With a brisk tug and a moment to let my body catch up with the new vertical position, I was face-to-face with my new _colleague_.

“I thought of you as more of a sidekick,” I told the man who’d just snogged me as well as I’d ever been snogged.

“You’re one of the most vexatious men that I’ve ever met.” With that he spun on his heel and stalked off into a stand of palm trees.

“That’s not the first time I’ve been told that,” I mumbled to myself then set off after the teacher with the huge stick…in his hand.

 

**To be continued…**

 


	13. Twinkle, Twinkle, Deadly Star - Chapter Thirteen - Shannon and the Shoals

**Twinkle, Twinkle, Deadly Star**

**Chapter Thirteen**

**Shannon and the Shoals**

(Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.)

 

I plodded along at Oliver’s side, my stupid body refusing to get with the plan. It kept letting me down at the most inconvenient times.

“Is there a reason that we’re walking so far along this beach?” Oliver enquired during a break that he needed desperately because holding me up was exhausting him. “I’d think a wrist strap capable of teleporting a man across several universes would be a bit more accurate.”

“Yes, well, the navigational transducer is a bit old and acting up.” I leaned back against a palm tree, Oliver sitting at my side, his walking stick resting on his lap as he paid close attention to my explanation. “Back in the day I’d have just popped into the Agency and requisitioned a new one. Those days are long gone now, and the only spare one that I knew about I gave to an old…friend.”

“That was kind of you,” he replied, his green eyes lingering on me. I shrugged then grimaced a bit. The bloody shoulder was still tender, although the pain was nothing like it was. Why did he have to say that? I wasn’t looking for kindness from the man. All I wanted from him was one – or seventeen – good fucks. Then I’d have this man purged from my system. I mean, really, me and a scholar? Pft. What a ridiculous notion.

“Not really. I was trying to lure him away from the man he’s smitten with by giving him his freedom from a planet he’d been marooned on. Didn’t work. Jack’s still with Eye Candy.”

“Eye Candy?”

“Not important. So please don’t look at me as if you think I’m something heroic to admire. All those old tales about the Time Agents, are just that. Tales. Fictional, romantic tales at that. Talk to someone who has actually dealt with one of us. I wager that gleam will leave your pretty eyes damn quickly.” I let my eyes drift shut to block out the sun. All this exertion was making me tired, crabby, and snippy. Exceptionally tired to be honest. Oliver remained silent. “Tell me about that walking stick.” I cracked an eye to gaze at him and the stick he so lovingly held across his thighs. “What the hell could be so important about a poorly whittled walking stick that would make you risk being a crab snack?”

“My husband Devon made it for me.” What now? Did he just say the word ‘husband’ to me? That made the situation something vastly different. I rarely diddle about with married people. It always ends badly and usually with the words “gunshot wound” or “stabbing incident” involved. “He’d gifted it to me for my birthday two months before he died.”

Ugh. Oh shit. Was I supposed to be comforting now? Fuck. “I’m sorry for your loss.” I had to stop myself from plunking a question mark on the end of that statement. I know. I’m a rotten human being.

“Thank you.” Oliver’s gaze remained on me. “You’re the first man that I’ve kissed since he passed away four years ago.”

“Bloody hell,” I whispered in a mix of astonishment and admiration. “Four years without a snog?”

He nodded, some color coming to his cheeks, his emerald eyes leaving me to study the sea. “When you love someone, it takes time to get over losing them.”

“Yes, yes it does.” The sound of Jack’s laugh and the memory of his kiss skipped across my mind. I wondered if I still loved him or if I was just clinging to his memory because it kept me from seeking out another man to care for and be hurt by. It was obvious Jack had moved on from me. That sounded bitter. Perhaps I needed to work on that. But psychoanalyzing oneself was so damned boring. Much better to shuttle the pain aside or mask it with sex, drugs, alcohol, action, and murder.

“You’ve loved and lost as well, I see.”

“It was nothing. Jack was just a short little liaison. No vows of love such as you and your husband had.”

“Well, it sounds as if it were more.”

“You’re mistaken.” I forced myself to my boots and walked off. Oliver quickly fell in beside me.

“I’m sorry if I’ve ventured into forbidden territory. I just…well, I know so little about you. And when you spoke of him your voice softened and grew wistful.” He took my elbow. Did he think I was an old woman in need of a hand to cross the fucking lane? I thought to tell him off but every step was becoming harder and harder.

“I don’t do wistful, reflective, or regretful.” I announced, threw my chin into the air, and managed to take eleven steps on my own. Which carried us onto the grounds of the Lilac Shoals Home for Retired Meteorologists and Intergalactic Storm Chasers.

“Isn’t this a lovely place to retire to?” Oliver said with approval. It _was_ a rather nice retirement community. Each old fart had his own little lodge to putter around with. There were about fifty bungalows tucked amid dancing palms, each one a pastel shade of the rainbow.

“We’re looking for a Shannon Gale,” I told Oliver as we made our way down the neat little road reading the names on the doors. We found our man living in bungalow #27, a pink-colored place with several large flowering bushes tucked around the base of the house. I rapped loudly on the door and waited. When it opened, a short man with little hair and a large, squat nose squinted up at me.

“Shannon, it’s me, John Hart.”

His wrinkled face shifted from curious to overjoyed. “By the meteor fields of Mixten! It’s Captain John Hart!” He threw his arms around me, sniffling and mumbling. I threw an embarrassed look at Oliver. My sidekick seemed to be moved by the overbearing display. I peeled the old embezzler from me then gently nudged him inside. Sniffling and hugging in public wasn’t my thing, and I needed a seat before I tipped over like a pile of dirty laundry. “Come in, come in.”

The tiny house was neat as a pin but full. Book shelves filled every available wall. Odds to peanuts every tome would be about the weather. Shannon had been a meteorologist of note back in his day, even working for the High Counsel of Trrim as Senior Atmospheric Advisor to the Trrim Prime Minister. It was a prestigious position. And then he got caught embezzling from the Trrim treasury and things went to shit after that. The man was lucky to still be in possession of his head. Those Trimm’s are quick to ire and even quicker with an axe.

“Have a seat,” Shannon said. I fell into the nearest chair, a rather modern looking thing with no arms. “The last time that I saw you was over in the western quadrant of Phast Eleven. You and that bloke with the million-dollar smile were being forced to wrestle sand leapers in exchange for your lives. Something about the son of a Phastian diplomat?.”

I made a quick slicing motion in front of my neck but Shannon just kept prattling on about Jack and me and those bloody sand leapers. You get caught tag teaming the son of a Phastian dignitary and that’s what happens. Into the pit with you. He was worth all the sand leaper bites though. What that man could do with two dicks and one inventive mouth still gave me hot shivers. I chanced a peek at Oliver. He seemed bewildered. Probably best to leave him that way.

“I didn’t catch your name, lad,” Shannon said to Oliver. Had I not introduced them? Well damn me and my lack of social graces. My mind was on tiny things like saving the _fucking_ universe and not fainting and rolling out of this stupid chair to the floor.

“My name is Oliver Bancroft, Mr. Gale. I’m a professor of art studies at the school Captain Hart’s sister Amelia attends.” Oliver got up, shook hands, smiled politely, and then sat back down. “It’s a pleasure to meet another academic! I’ve always enjoyed stargazing and even have a small telescope in my backyard.”

Shannon began chattering about some star in some galaxy that had eaten itself and burped out gas so rich it formed a black hole… or something.  Oliver seemed enraptured, nodding his brown curls at the end of every boring sentence. I was too tired, too sore, and too worried about that whole pesky ‘saving the universe’ pickle to sit and talk about planetary belches.

“Shannon,” I pushed into the conversation. My old friend turned to me. “As engrossing as this talk is, we’ve come to ask you if you’ve any knowledge of an ‘Oncoming Storm’ being mentioned in any of your weather things.”

“In what regard? Shannon asked, his eyes moving from me to Oliver then back to me. “I’ve studied thousands of incoming storms over my years.”

“No, no,” I shook my head. “’Oncoming Storm’ is what we’re wondering about.”

“Why do you ask? I’m sorry, Cap’n, but I’m not sure I should in front of a stranger.”

“Now you’re worried? Where was that concern when you were tossing about sand leaper tales?”

“If you don’t mind,” Oliver said as he pushed up to his impressive height, “I’d love to browse through your books while you and Captain Hart share some warm memories of men with stunning smiles and sand leapers.”

Shannon smiled feebly at my sidekick. “Oh, yes, that would be wonderful. Please do browse!” Shannon turned his attention to me then leaned close to whisper conspiratorially about some gold he owed me.

“I meant to pay it back years ago, but you know me and gold dust. I just can’t seem to not keep it when it touches my fingers,” the old thief said. I waved off the debt. Shannon seemed greatly relieved. So relieved, in fact, that he could actually get up and join Oliver in searching through the vast library he owned. Probably most of the books had been pilfered too. I cared not. All I wanted was to rest my eyes. I snapped awake when Oliver called my name.

 “Captain, I think I found a vague reference to our ‘Oncoming Storm’ in this old book of portents and prognostications,” Oliver said, hurrying over to sit down beside me with a weathered book in his hands. His green eyes were dancing with excitement.

“May I?” Shannon asked. Oliver gladly handed the book over. Shannon dug about inside his sweater, pulled out some reading glasses, put them on, and then skimmed over the open pages with a bent finger. “Oh yes, I recall this. Granted, I was never much into auspices. Great calamities can always be explained scientifically.”

“Right, yes, but what does it say about the storm?” I prodded.

“Oh, yes, well, according to this forewarning the man will arrive when he is needed most.”

“Wait.” I had to stop things for my slow mind. “A man? The ‘Oncoming Storm’ is a man?”

“So it says,” Shannon gently closed the book.

“A man?” Nothing was making sense. How could one man…

“May I borrow that book, Mr. Gale?” Oliver politely enquired. “There may be more in it. A hint as to who the man is or where he may be found.”

“Oh, it goes on to explain who the man is.” Shannon reopened the book, flipped several pages, and then turned it to show us. “Look, there’s even an ancient drawing of how he arrives.”

My sight touched on the image of an old drawing on the inside of some dank cave. “Oh, wonderful,” I groaned as I gazed upon the drawing of an old blue police box. “I need a nap and a bottle of your best whiskey.”

“You’re welcome to the bed. I’m afraid all I have is cooking sherry,” Shannon informed me.

I slowly got to my feet, Oliver quickly jumping up to steady me. “Sherry is fine. I’ll take all you have. No glass will be required.”

 

**To Be Continued…**


	14. Twinkle, Twinkle, Deadly Star - Chapter Fourteen - The Best Mirror

**Twinkle, Twinkle, Deadly Star**

**Chapter Fourteen**

**The Best Mirror**

 (Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.)

 

I was finding it damned hard to get drunk on the half a bottle of old cooking sherry Shannon owned. Oliver’s gaze was googly to say the least after I sucked the sherry down in one, long pull then handed the empty bottle back to him.

“Perhaps we should rest here for a bit? Give your depleted body time to recover?” He seemed genuinely concerned about my well-being. That made me feel funny inside. I waved off his tenderness before it made me feel funnier.

“The end of the world is now five days off and you’re worried about me taking a nap?”

He drew back slightly as if my tone had stung. Then I felt bad. Fuck. I hated feelings. They always made you do stupid things. Like apologize.

“Sorry,” I mumbled then returned my attention to my wrist strap and the tiny screwdriver in my hand. “I’m still a bit sore.”

“I understand. I was just…”

“I’m aware of what you were just doing.” I gave the tiny flickering navigational transducer inside my manipulator a tiny twist. The flickering stopped and the small bit glowed warm safflower. I quickly replaced the cover, tightened the screws that held it to the thick leather band, and closed it up tight. “There. That should have it fixed. Hopefully our next jump will get us on target.”

I remembered to stand slowly. The room didn’t heave or haw so I considered that a win.

“Do you plan to take us to this man in the blue box?” Oliver asked over the soft snores of Shannon napping on the sofa. Oh, to be an old man with no greater worries than pruning the rose bushes and getting your afternoon nap.

“I’ve no idea where to find him,” I said while tightening my strap snugly to my wrist. “I’ve done my best to avoid him. We have slightly different thoughts on a few things. But, I do know someone who’s rather chummy with him. Hopefully he’ll be able to tell me how to contact him.”

“And who is this man that we’re hoping to locate? The one with the blue box.” Oliver asked then began rummaging around in his damp knapsack.

“He’s the last of the Time Lords.”

Oliver’s attention flew from the tiny box in his hand to me. “Time Lords? I thought they all died out.”

“One didn’t.” Using the furniture to help with my wonky balance, I made my way to Shannon then deposited a small bag of silver to his softly rising chest. When I turned back to speak to Oliver he was regarding me as if I walked on water.

“Truly you are an amazing man,” he murmured. “A Time Agent who knows the last Time Lord!”

“I will agree that I’m rather amazing, but, I’m no friend of the Time Lord. He’s got all these lofty morals.” Oliver looked at me oddly, like he couldn’t make his sharp mind grasp the thing I just said. I flipped open my wrist strap. “If those are your pills for motion sickness, you’re going to want to take one now. We have a quick stop to make.”

He nodded, tossed back the pill, and washed it down with the small bit of sherry left in the bottle. It was incredibly tempting to go taste the man’s mouth after the sherry had sweetened his tongue. Not that his mouth needed sweetening. Oh, no, it did not.

“If I could have perhaps half an hour to allow the medicine to get into my blood steam that would be…”

“Sorry, every second is precious.” I fed the coordinates to our next destination into my strap, grabbed him by the arm, and pulled him into the portal that opened beside Shannon’s couch. He fumbled with his knapsack and walking stick. I pulled out a gun then stepped into the conference room of the Hub.

Team Torchwood – my gods what a stupid name – were sitting there eating Chinese food by the looks. Oliver and I stepped out of the rift portal and out onto the top of the long conference table. The five of them coughed, shouted, and leaped about in shock. I pointed my gun at the first member of Jack’s little happy family who happened to get their weapon out first. It was the scrawny medic with the cheekbones to die for.

“Now, now, let’s not react in a way that will get you a bullet in the brain,” I said as they all whipped out their weapons. “Why don’t we all act like the professionals that we are?”

Oliver then fell to his hands and knees and vomited on the table. _So much for professionalism._

“Okay, everyone lower your guns,” Jack shouted while glaring at me. I gave him a winky-wink and a smile. He didn’t return either.

“I don’t think so,” Doctor Attitude growled. “I think I owe him for one shooting.” The safety on his gun clicked off. I swung my weapon to point at the lovely Japanese woman trying her best not to toss her Gong Bao chicken. “And for striking Tosh.”

“Shoot him for leaving me to die in a storage crate after kissing me,” Gwen snapped.

“If anyone gets to shoot him, it’s me.” That was Eye Candy. Truly he _did_ have more reason than the others. Had he lost weight?

“No one is shooting him,” Jack firmly said. “Now lower your weapons. Owen, see what the hell is wrong with this man who just puked on my spring rolls. Owen, lower that damn gun now!”

The medic’s dark eyes held all kinds of hate. I gave him a winky-wink too then jumped off the table, holstered my gun, and helped drag Oliver off the table to his feet.

“I told you the medicine needed more time to get into my bloodstream,” he sputtered as I bolstered him up and led him to the sick bay. The doctor begrudgingly followed along as did the others. Probably they were done eating now anyway. Also, and this is just a guess, they probably all wanted to protect Jack. How tender and fluffy it all was.

“What are you doing here? I thought I distinctly told you the last time we saw each other that I never wanted to see you on my planet again?”

I gave Jack a look as I lowered Oliver into one of the beds in the sick bay. The doctor – no one cares what his name is – began checking my sidekick out. The other three stood behind Jack, eyes locked on me as if I were a scorpion ready to strike. You headbutt one woman in the face…

“Yes, well, your claims to own the world aside, Jack, I have some important--”

“So that’s Jack?” Oliver asked behind me. I grimaced. Harkness cocked a brow.

“You’ve been talking about me to this handsome gent?” Jack asked. I wanted to slap him. He needed to keep his randy eyes off my Oliver. Oliver. Not my Oliver. Just Oliver. Oliver who was not mine. Fucking hell.

“Exactly who is this?” Eye Candy asked, waving a pale hand at Oliver.

“He’s my sidekick.”

“Adventure companion,” Oliver chimed up then groaned.

_Death claim me now._

“Oh, so you now have an ‘adventure companion’? When did this happen?” Jack asked, folding his arms over his chest. The urge to slap him had gone. Now I wanted to shoot him in his smug, stunning face. And maybe Eye Candy too as he was also giving me a stupid look. Granted, it was the only kind of look he had but still…

“When I was stabbed by a poisoned rapier thrown by Jenny Graymerry.” Jack’s eyes widened at the mention of her name. “He’s here to assist in keeping me moving in the right direction.”

“And that direction is what? Hopefully off my planet as soon as your sidekick--”

“Adventure companion,” Eye Candy arrogantly corrected his boss/lover. The coffee boy was definitely getting shot in the face. Jack snickered. The women giggled. The doctor called me a fucking lowlife carbuncle. I planned to shoot them all in the face as soon as I got the information I needed.

“Can we talk privately while my sidekick gets his belly righted?” I asked the head of Torchwood.

Jack assessed me for a long time then gave me one small nod. Eye Candy instantly protested me being alone with Jack but Harkness quieted the sniveling nob with kind words and touchy-touch. Ugh. I swear. The two of them were enough to curdle milk. I had to get away from it before I vomited on the spring rolls as well. I walked over to Oliver stretched out on a bed that was nearly too short for his gangly frame.

“I’m going to go talk with Jack. Lay there and let this puny physician get you settled.” I told Oliver, my fingers running over his pale cheek. He nodded and smiled. I gave him a tender pat on the face because he was sick and that’s what you did when people were sick.

“You and Oliver seem close,” Jack said when we were safely inside his office.

“He’s my sister’s art teacher,” I told him, padding around his space, investigating the jars of alien paws and other oddities he kept on shelves. Hadn’t there been more here the last time I visited?

“How is she?”

“She’s marvelous and sends her regards.” I picked up a small jar with a clawed finger bobbing about in formaldehyde. “Craxian claw?”

“Crag dweller from the middle moon of Dat.”

“Ah, they are nasty.” I shoved the jar back and turned to look at the man reclining back in his office chair.

“So, you and the art teacher. Not the kind of man I’d have thought you’d be attracted to.” He laced his fingers behind his fat head. I thought to boot him and the chair into the bay but didn’t. See, I have restraint.

“I’m not attracted to him.”

“No?” He gave me that shady side-eye. “Huh. It sure _looked_ like you were attracted to him. The soft whispers and the gentle touches are quite telling.”

“Well, you should know. If you and Eye Candy were any more smitten it would be nauseating. Actually, it _is_ nauseating.”

Jack chortled then tossed his big boots up to his desk. “Your ‘adventure companion’ is quite good-looking.”

“Is he? I hadn’t noticed. Now can we stop this tittering gossip and get to the reason I’m here?” I plucked his RAF cap from a coat rack and arranged it on my head. He gave me a knowing smirk that I ignored. “I need to contact the Doctor. I’ve stumbled over a tiny little problem that involves the end of the universe and I need his advice on how to stop it.”

That wiped the leer off his face.

 

**To be continued…**

 

Acknowledgements to Peter Nivio Zarlenga’s quote **“** The best mirror is an old friend” from which the title of this chapter was taken.

 


	15. Twinkle, Twinkle, Deadly Star - Chapter Fifteen - Long Distance Call

**Twinkle, Twinkle, Deadly Star**

**Chapter Fifteen**

**Long Distance Call**

 (Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.)

 

“Not to be a total widget, but is this really the time to be making a bloody phone call?” Jack motioned for me to be quiet. Which meant that I talked more. I’m an imp that way. “Shouldn’t you and Team Torchwood – such an asinine name – actually be getting around and doing something?”

“Shit, it went to voice mail.” Jack tossed his mobile to his desk then settled those baby blues on me. “Martha is the only way that I know of to contact the Doctor.”

“What? How is it that you can’t? According to Dorium you and the Time Lord are best friends.”

“Dorium exaggerates a bit. I only had one way to track him and that’s gone now.” He sounded rather sad about that. “My relationship with him is complicated.”

“You sound like a Facebook update.” Jack frowned. “So you’re essentially useless to me and now we’re waiting for some little bit of fluff to ring us back? You’re such a disappointment, Jack. Truly.” I stalked out of his office and nearly collided with his lover who was trying to look as if he weren’t lolling about outside Jack’s office eavesdropping.

There was a slew of things I wanted to say to the young Welshman. None kind. I pushed around him without breaking stride. He entered Jack’s office while I pounded down wet catwalks under the watchful eye of two-thirds of _Charlie’s Angels_. They still needed a blonde. When I exploded into the sick bay the medic glowered at me.

“He’s fine. Next time try to show just a smidgeon of human decency and let the man’s meds work,” Scrawny Doctor snapped before exiting like a diva.

“Did you really do all the terrible things these people say you did?”

“Hello Oliver. And how are you feeling?” I’d gut that skinny tit in the white lab coat. Could no one in this dank cave of a base keep their mouths shut? “I may have done all they said, yes. I also pushed Jack off a roof but in my defense, he _was_ being a bit of a twist.” My sidekick’s mouth dropped open. “Oh stop. He’s fine. He’s a tough man to kill.” I strolled over to sit down beside him on the bed. He scooted away. Ouch. That stung a bit. “I think I told you that I was not a man to admire, did I not?”

“But you’re so gallant and brave. You’re trying to save the universe…”

“Because I want to get paid and I don’t want my sister to die. Do you really think I’d be traipsing around getting stabbed, attacked by crabs, and insulted by this collection of twits who think they’re the Welsh version of _X-Files_ mixed with bloody _Falcon Crest_ just to be noble?”

His green eyes blinked stupidly. “But…”

“Yes, I know. It’s a bitter pill but swallow it you must. I am _not_ the kind of man a man like you should be rolling in the surf with. I’m really a deviant at heart who cares only about two things. My sister and money. Three if you count sex. Four if you count murdering people. Four. That’s it. Just four.” I held up four fingers. “Oh, well, let’s add booze and drugs. Six. Six things I care about.” I added two more fingers.

“You don’t care about me then?”

Shit. Fuck. Damnation. Why did he have to look so miserably gutted? The poor, beautiful fool. It should be obvious to anyone that my heart is filled with greed and nothing else. Best he has his romantic little blinders removed now. There was no future for him and me. Not the kind he wanted. Not the kind that Jack and Ianto had. Eye Candy. I meant Eye Candy. Fucking Ianto Jones. How _dare_ he turn Jack into such a … a… lover of monogamy and rose petals on the sheets? They probably lit candles and listened to Air Supply while they fucked. All that possibility for pain…

“I like you as much as I can like anyone other than my sister. I plan to bed you numerous times when this little problem is wrapped up and I’m considerably richer. If you’re looking for something like you had with your husband – all that tender romance and tumbling head over heels in love – then you’re going to be sorely disappointed. Now, can we please get moving or do you need a few more minutes to let your pill melt?”

“So, you’re trying to convince me that you’re a vile, greedy, heartless man?”

“You’re finally catching on.” I pushed to my feet hoping to see revulsion in his gaze. Oddly though, there wasn’t. Suddenly, from nowhere, a rather ugly emotion bloomed in my chest. It felt like acid reflux only ten times worse. I pressed the heel of my hand into my sternum. What the hell was this sensation? Was it shame? No. Surely not. I’d never been ashamed of my actions before. Oliver glanced up at the grunt of surprise and pain that escaped me. “Damn, that hurt.” The scholar got to his feet and stood there, warily studying me. “If you’ve got something more to say then say it.”

Oliver walked over to the door, kicked it shut, and then closed the distance between us. Still grinding my hand into the burning sensation, I tipped my head to look at him.

“I know what it is you’re doing.”

“Dying a slow death from ingesting cheap sherry?”

“No.” Dark brown curls bounced when he shook his head. I did like those curls. “You’re using the terrible things that you’ve done in the past to push me away in an effort to protect me.”

“Hardly,” I said through gritted teeth.

“That’s incredibly brave of you.”

“I’m glad you’re finally starting to see the – I’m sorry, what?”

He bobbed his head again. The man needed to stop that. Those curls were going to make me sappy soon and I sincerely hated being sappy over curls.

“You’re trying to spare me the pain of a possible attachment because you fear that we may fail in our quest. Thank you for being so considerate of my feelings, but I’m sure that rolling around with you in the surf is something I’d like to do again.”

“But…your job.” Yes, I know it was a terrible argument but he’d blindsided me. Ugh. I sorely needed some antacids and an aspirin for my shoulder. “And no… it’s not that at all. I really am a wretched excuse for a man. I pushed a man that I loved off a roof! And there are other ghastly things that I’ve done. Thousands of horrid acts that the Agency endorsed and applauded. Torture, murder…did I mention torture? Jack and I … we were very good at torture. So, whatever nonsense you’ve festering inside your head, lance it. I’m despicable. Ask Jack or his little admiration society. Dorium will tell you! Just toss my name out at any gathering and you’ll be regaled with tales of my bastardy.”

He smiled. Oh, dear. He shouldn’t smile when I’m telling him what a tosser I am. And I thought teachers were intelligent.

“Like timidity, bravery is also contagious. Munshi Premchand said that. I’m willing to fight my employer if this attraction grows into something larger because your bravery has inspired me to act heroically as well. Your atrocious acts in the past were done to make the universe a safer place, yes? That _was_ what the Time Agents did, correct? Interplanetary marshals rounding up and putting an end to evil?”

Sweet Saturn. The man had bought into all the Agency rhetoric. Yes, deep down, at the core of things, that was what we Time Agents had been at one time. When things had first started. But, over hundreds of years, our spiffy badges became a little tarnished. In the case of Geirr, Jack, and I that tarnish had nearly obscured the glisten of the badge. We three had been more than happy to do whatever had been asked of us, even when we knew the Agency was wrong. The slaughter on Destiny’s fourth moon had been just one of a hundred similar incidents. Each and every one I carried right where my chest was on fire. How could I make him understand how unworthy I was?

“Oliver…” The burning in my chest was astronomical now but his eyes were so _damn_ green. “You’re incredibly stubborn and stupid. Yes, stupid. Stupid, stupid, man,” I growled as I reached for him, my fingers biting into the nape of his neck as I jerked his mouth down to mine. The moment my tongue swept over his, the agony in my chest subsided. He stepped into me, his hands slipping around my waist. I took handfuls of chestnut curls and twisted them around my fingers. My shoulder wound protested strongly but I ignored the pain. He groaned a little across my mouth. I dove deeper, rubbing my tongue over his, scraping my teeth over his bottom lip, and then sweeping his mouth with heat.

We tangoed backward until my shoulder blades met the sick bay door. Kissing him was fun even if it did put a crick in my neck. I ground my cock against his hip bone, pulling another low rumble of pleasure from him. His hands roamed up my sides, slipping under my coat, he tugged on my shirt to free it from my dungarees.

“I’ll end up hurting you,” I panted when we broke for air. His glasses were crookedly seated on his nose and his fingers were resting on my ribs. The flesh to flesh contact made me eager for more skin on skin. Lots more skin on skin…

“I don’t think so,” he breathlessly replied before slanting his mouth back over mine. My mind was awash in lust. Getting him onto that bed then stripping him of his clothing was paramount right now. Fuck Parthock and that idiotic manic Time Lord and fuck the end of the universe. Who needs a universe anyway? Not me. All I needed was to get balls deep into Oliver Bancroft as quickly as possible.

Using my grip on his hair, I shoved him in reverse, my goal the bed. The door coming open slapped me soundly in the ass. Oliver ripped himself free, losing some hair in the process. Jack peeked around the door, saw us trying to disentangle ourselves, and grinned like a crow in a corn patch.

“You showed up just in time. We’re looking for a third,” I tossed out while Oliver fumbled about on his big feet, trying to speak intelligently, and failing miserably.

Jack cocked a wicked eyebrow. “As appealing as that offer is, I’ll have to decline. Unless you’re willing to take on a fourth? Ianto would be up for that, I reckon.”

“You reckon wrong,” the tea boy announced as he stepped in behind Jack. “I tend to shy away from having sex with men who’ve tried to kill everyone I hold dear.”

“Is he a permanent attachment to your side now?” I asked and jerked a thumb at Eye Candy. Oliver had made his way to the other side of the room, the bashful thing, turning from us to hide the erection he sported.

“And other places,” Jack quipped. Oh, ha-ha. He was always quite the quipper. “I have Martha Jones for you.”

He spun on his heels and exited, his pretty but annoying coffee boy on his heels. I threw a look at Oliver and chuckled.

“You can join us after that hard-on goes away,” I motioned to the area on his body he was shielding with a pillow. “And this conversation is not over.”

“No, Captain, it isn’t.”

That didn’t sound like a man beaten. I’d ponder on that later.

I was quite pleasantly surprised to see that Martha Jones was a looker. I sat back in one of the chairs by the table that Oliver had vomited on just a mere thirty minutes ago. My but that tea/coffee lad did a spiffy job of tidying up.

“I could use a man like you to clean my office, Eye Candy,” I said over my shoulder and got a lethal glare from the stiff twat in the well-made suit.

“The reason we called you is to see if you can contact the Doctor for us,” Jack spoke right over me the inconsiderate thing. Oliver snuck into the room, knapsack back on his back, walking stick in hand, getting bizarre looks from the peanut gallery. This Martha woman’s slim eyebrows knotted up as she gazed at us from the big screen on the wall.

“Who is that?” She pointed at Oliver and then me. I winked.

“Captain John Hart. Jack and I are old acquaintances,” I told her. “You’re a lovely little sparrow, aren’t you?”

“Okay, can we stop now?” Jack snapped. I shrugged the good shoulder. Oliver sat down beside me, the flush of erotic passion on his cheeks gone. Pity. Jack then launched into the Eye of Parthock story as it had been relayed to him. I left out how much I was being paid. It was none of his business. And for some reason Oliver thought I was doing this out of charity or some other foolish type of tripe. Maybe I liked the notion that he admired me. It would make bedding him that much easier.

“I’ll give him a call but it might be days until he replies.” Pretty Martha Jones looked rather distraught about that. I was about to offer her my company for the night to cheer her up when my wrist strap rang.

“Nothing good ever comes of those things ringing,” Eye Candy commented behind me. I flipped it open, worry settling on my shoulders like a poncho. If something had happened to Amelia…

“Hello John,” Jenny smiled as a life-sized hologram of her holding a knife to Dopto’s throat flickered and wavered on the conference table. “Look what I have here.” She dragged the tip of her dagger over that thin red throat. A line of light blue blood welled up. Dopto whimpered and cried my name. “This is your favorite whore, yes? Jack Harkness! You look just the same.”

“Jenny, you look considerably more haggard,” Jack fired back.

Jenny smirked and made another line on Dopto’s throat parallel to the previous one. “As you can see my men and I are having a relaxing time here at the Maldovarium.” One of her brainless helpers pulled Dorium into view. Jenny poked Dopto in the chin. The poor lad squealed like a stuck hog. “Why don’t you come back and have a drink with us? Maybe return the book you stole?”

“Well as you can see I’m having a splashing good time with my friends here…” I waved a hand nonchalantly in the air. “I think I’ll stay here and you can go fuck yourself.” She jammed the end of the knife into Dopto’s upper pectoral. He screamed. “Ugh, fine. I’ll come if only to shut him up.”

“Bring the book or I swear all three of them die.” Jenny glared at me then threw an equally violent look at Jack. “Jack I wish I could say it had been a pleasure but being with you was never pleasurable.”

Every male in the room sucked air in between his teeth.

“That’s not what your mother said,” Jack countered leaving me to wonder if he actually _had_ shagged Jenny’s mother. Nothing would surprise me. I closed my wrist strap then shoved to my feet.

“A hero’s work is never done. Jack, you know how to contact me when the Time Lord deigns to get in touch. Oliver, stay here and talk knitting with Eye Candy while I go sort out the mess at the Maldovarium.”

I did some quick tapping and a portal appeared instantly. Probably because we were right over the rift. The power leaping from the portal was impressive. I gave the others a look, touched my brow in a salute, and stepped into the portal as I pulled my guns from my holsters. Just as I stepped out into the Maldovarium someone with brown curls and a stupid stick stumbled out after me. The portal closed as I was trying to decide how much of that walking stick I could shove up Oliver’s tight ass. He swung around, stick held up defensively. I placed the sights of my gun right on Jenny’s pockmarked brow.

Twenty men, four women, and one I couldn’t tell all aimed guns, swords, knives, and several small explosive devices at Oliver and me.

“You have until the count of three to free the Dopto and the Dorium. I don’t care about the bar maid. She’s always trying to blind me.”

Danta hurled Durient curses at me. The scurvy folks didn’t seem overly impressed with my dictum so I flipped off my safeties and started to count.

“One…Two…Three.”

 

**To be continued…**

 


	16. Twinkle, Twinkle, Deadly Star - Chapter Sixteen - Hiding in Plain Sight

**Twinkle, Twinkle, Deadly Star**

**Chapter Sixteen**

**Hiding in Plain Sight**

 (Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.)

 

I shot the man holding Dorium. Right between his yellow peepers. Things kind of went tits up after that.

Dorium fell to the floor and crawled behind the bar. Oliver swung his walking stick in a wide arc and knocked the knife out of Jenny’s hand. Dopto ran and hid behind me. Danta swung around, grabbed a swizzle stick from the glass container on the bar, and jammed it right into the eye of the person whose gender I could not distinguish. Jenny whipped her gun out and aimed it at Oliver. I aimed mine at her.

“Stand down!” Jenny barked at her gang, her sight never wavering from me. I smiled sweetly. “Lower that gun, John.”

“You lower yours.”

“No, you lower yours.”

“No, _you_ lower _yours_.”

“Dammit, John, I _will_ shoot him,” she growled.

“Doubtful. You value your own life above anything else. And trust me, Poppet, if you pull that trigger I will splatter all those clever brains of yours on the wall.”

She knew I spoke the truth. If the bitch so much as broke one of Oliver’s fingernails I’d end her miserable life without a second thought.

“I just want the book,” she said, sights still lined up right between Oliver’s lovely green eyes. “I’ll go find the treasure myself if you just give me the book that you stole.”

“There _is_ no treasure,” I sighed.

Dorium’s shiny blue pate popped up from behind the bar. “ _What?!_ What do you mean there’s no treasure? Of course there is, we all know there is. I paid pure platinum dust for the information saying there was a treasure.”

“You know wrong. There’s no treasure. All there is in that book are licentious ramblings from a young monk with a perpetual hard-on. Oh, and a small bit about four red orbs, sour milk, and Lord Parthock coming to kick our asses.”

“He’s paraphrasing,” Oliver said then fell into silence when Jenny glowered at him.

“If you’re lying to me John…” the poxy wench snarled. I lowered my guns, jammed them into their holsters, and dug into Egbert’s napping pocket. Her eyes widened when she saw me pull out the tome. I waved it a bit.

“Take it and go. Get it translated. You’ll see that what I said was true.” I underhanded the book to her. She caught it with one hand, amber eyes still filled with distrust.

“Go on now, before I lose patience with you threatening my sidekick.” I made a shooing motion with my left hand.

“Adventure partner,” Oliver chimed up. Even with a gun barrel an inch from his right eye he was still so proper about titles. And brave. Quite brave. Maybe I’d take him into the storage room and show him how much I admired his bravery and stick skills.

Jenny shoved the tome into her cleavage. Her gun slowly drifted to her side.

“Get a move on then. I have to save the universe and you’re keeping me from doing that.” I spun on my heel, grabbed Oliver by the elbow, and led him to Dorium’s office. Dopto followed along at my side, holding onto me, and throwing dark looks at Oliver.

Once inside the office I flopped down into the magnificent seat behind Dorium’s heavy desk and waited. Dorium and Danta appeared in the doorway, both looking fit to be tied. Dopto was poking a finger at Oliver and talking full bore in Durient.

“I cannot believe you simply walked off with your new… associate, and left me alone out there!” Dorium huffed, exploding into the lush office in a wave of satiny green robing and indignation. “And get your damn boots off my desk!”

Danta latched onto Dopto, called me something vile in Durient, and dragged her brother out of the room. Oliver blinked at me. I shrugged then winced. Dorium stood staring.

“Oh for...” I swung my feet from the desk then stood up, bowing theatrically while waving at his chair. The big man harrumphed past me then deposited his substantial ass into his seat. I walked over to stand beside Oliver who was enraptured with the Time Lord picture on the wall.

“What you told Jenny… about the milk and orbs and end of the universe, was that the truth?” Dorium enquired.

“It was. Sorry, but there is no treasure. Only a prophecy and lots of mentions of heaving bosoms.”

Dorium looked crushed. “I want the gold dust back.”

“Oh no, that is not how this works,” I instantly fired back.

“Uh, Captain?” Oliver interjected.

I brushed him off. “I’ve been stabbed, nearly died, and had to expose my sidekick here--”

“Adventure partner,” Oliver slipped in. “Captain, I think you should look at this painting…”

“Mr. Bancroft! I’ve seen the bloody painting. It’s very pretty, now please let me finish haggling with this cheap, fat bastard!”

“I beg your pardon!” Dorium blustered. “I’m big boned.”

“Captain, I really must insist you look at this.” Oliver yanked on my sleeve. I rounded on him like an angry dog.

“What the hell is so…”

Oliver pointed a long finger at a grove of palm trees growing along the shore. “Look there, behind the largest tree. Captain, it’s the blue police box.”

“No,” I murmured then leaned close. By my mother’s sainted breath… “It _is_ the blue box.”

There it sat, barely seen, tucked neatly into that clump of palms.

“This painting is amazing,” Oliver sighed, placing the tips of his fingers into the image. The painting wavered slightly and he removed his fingers, his face glowing with admiration and awe. “Simply amazing,” he whispered.

“You are the most brilliant man.” I grabbed Oliver by the neck and pulled him down for a good snogging with lots of deep tongue action. Dorium cleared his throat. Oliver, the shy darling, broke free and tried to not look embarrassed.

“I’d still like my gold dust back,” Dorium stated. I ignored him. He was never seeing that dust. I’d earned it and then some.

“Right, okay, so this picture is a captured moment in time,” I said as Oliver and I returned to staring at the oil painting. “If I could find out when this was painted and where, I could triangulate the coordinates and take us to the exact place and time captured in this painting.”

“And meet the Time Lord now instead of waiting for an interplanetary call to reach him. Captain, that’s incredible!” Oliver grinned.

“Want to kiss me?”

“Yes, very much.”

“Excuse me, gentlemen, but there’s still the matter of my gold dust,” Dorium interjected.

“Do be quiet, Dorium, you’re not getting that back. Consider it my fee for saving this miserable universe you call home.” I threw a dark look at the blue man behind the desk. He frowned. “Tell me what you know about this painting.”

“Oh, so _now_ you want to talk,” Dorium grumbled.

“Dorium, you’re being petulant. Don’t make me stab you in a belly roll. Tell me what you know about this painting and be quick about it.”

He rolled his eyes. “The man who sold it to me said it was a homage to the beauty that was sunrise on the morn of the moons aligning on Salten Dren.”

“Salten Dren, of course. I should have recognized the damn green sea.” I scrutinized the painting closely. “Anything about _when_ this was painted?”

“Not a clue,” Dorium replied.

“Captain, I recall studying about Salten Dren when I was in university. Well, we touched on it. A mere mention actually.” Oliver was speaking at the painting, his breath fogging inside the captured moment in time. It really _was_ quite amazing. “I recall my professor saying that the tourist trade to Salten Dren during the alignment of the two yellow moons triples their usual intake because the two moons only align once every thousand years.”

“When was the last alignment?” I asked myself then began feeding that very question into my wrist strap. “I’ll kiss you for that information in a moment.” Oliver gave me a soft sort of smile that made my cock twitch. “Ah, yes, twelve years ago.”

I kissed him again. Just as wetly. Then I ended the kiss, fed in the time and space coordinates, and waited for the portal to open.

“John, I still think we need to discuss this situation with my gold dust,” Dorium said right as the glowing golden fingers of rift energy appeared.

“Right yes, we’ll worry about that if I can stop Parthock from coming back and destroying us all.”

“Really?”

“No, not a chance.” I took hold of Oliver and we hurried into the portal, stepping out on soft white sands under two enormous moons in the rosy sky. “I’m bloody incredible,” I crowed then patted my wrist strap with affection. “Just a few tweaks and she’s right as rain.”

Oliver ran to the trees. I followed. We circled the police box a few times then jiggled the door but it was firmly locked.

“Go ahead and knock,” I instructed my sidekick. He rapped on the door soundly, rose to his toes to try to peek in through the windows, then shook his head.

“No one seems to be here.” He turned to look out at the lizard-green ocean. “Perhaps he’s gone to the nearest city. They host parties and celebrations during the alignment if memory serves.”

“Right. It’s a place to start.” After another jump using another portal, Oliver and I found ourselves on the other side of the planet, smack dab in the middle of Praden, the capital of Salten Drox. The twin moons were much closer on this side. So close, in fact, you could see the craters of a million meteorite strikes. It was quite the sight.

The city was massive. White adobe buildings reached up into the pink sky. The streets were packed with natives, their skin light blue as a robin’s egg. Tourists milled around, eyes glued to the twin moons.

“I’ve always dreamed of witnessing this…” I glanced to the right. Oliver had his head tipped. His long throat was exposed, the adams apple prominent and begging to be suckled. He looked from the rarity in space to me. “Thank you for bringing me along.”

“To be honest you followed me even though I told you to stay at the Hub.”

He had the good manners to look chagrined. It was quite the appealing look on him. “Ah, well, yes, that’s true. So. “ He awkwardly cleared his throat. “Where do we start? Do we even know what the Time Lord looks like?”

“Not a clue,” I mumbled, folding my arms over my chest as I studied the hundreds of people milling about, chattering, and laughing.

“Well, I’m sure we’ll find him. I mean, he’s a Time Lord. He’s got to be an imposing sight. Probably ten meters tall, with a robe and scepter. Perhaps he’s clockwork and travels with an entourage of tiny people with clocks in their chests.”

I caught sight of a blonde head. Going up to my toes I then smiled. “Or he could be a dorky looking bloke with big ears wearing a leather jacket and traveling with a sexy blonde in a Union Jack shirt.”

“Oh no, I doubt that. He’d be commanding and stoic and quite – Captain! Wait!”

 

 

**To be continued…**

 

 


	17. Twinkle, Twinkle, Deadly Star - Chapter Seventeen - Things to Never Ask a Lady

**Twinkle, Twinkle, Deadly Star**

**Chapter Seventeen**

**Things to Never Ask a Lady**

 (Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.)

In case you may be wondering, cows are not a native species of Salten Dren. Cows, it seems, have never been heard of on Salten Dren.

“What do you put on your cereal?” the Doctor asked the fortieth person we approached about cows.

“Soy milk,” the man replied then pushed his wagon filled with chickens along.

“Must be bloody hard milking a soy bean,” the Doctor said then pretended to be milking a tiny bean. Rose laughed. Oliver chortled. I wanted to shoot the simpleton tugging on little imaginary bean titties.

“They have chickens on this planet but not cows,” I huffed, tossed a look at the sky and those fat red stars, and felt the first true fingerlings of concern welling up inside.

“Looks like we’ll have to find a cow friendly planet in this solar system,” the bean milking fool from Gallifrey said. Heads bobbed. “Let’s get back to the TARDIS.”

I raised my left arm. The Doctor gave me a gimlet eye. “What? You don’t expect me to walk to the other side of the planet, do you?”

“No, of course not. That would take forever.” His smile worried me. “We’ll go the same way we arrived which will not further weaken the fabric of time with willy-nilly teleporting.”

Oliver took hold of my arm. He tugged me along as we wended around and through the packed streets. As we rounded a corner a foul smell assaulted my nose. Oliver and I both gagged. Rose did as well. The Doctor placed a handkerchief over his nose and mouth and bulled on with increasing speed.

“They stink to high hell,” Rose said to the side as she pinched her nose shut. “But they’re quite fun to ride!”

“Ride? Did she say ride?” I asked Oliver, my eyes watering from the stench.

“Ack,” he gagged in reply. I nudged him along, hoping his travel motion pill was still in effect. We did not need to have four large guapa drinks being regurgitated on our shoes to mix with the unholy stink of… whatever the hell they were that we would be riding.

I came up short when we rounded a high wooden fence. Inside were four massive creatures that looked like pudgy dinosaurs but with chicken legs. They had feathers on their head. Their necks were scaly as was the rest of them aside from a few scraggly white feathers on their toes. They had beaks and beady white eyes.

“That may be the ugliest thing I have even seen,” I coughed as the rank smell doubled now that we were inside their corral. Oliver did throw up behind a large pile of droppings. Must be his pill was wearing off…The Doctor bounced over to one of the creatures, fed it a plum pit and a spool of string, and then climbed up onto its scaly back. He offered the lovely Rose a hand and up she went.

“They’re known as Salt Rousers. At one time – easy Emily we’ll get moving in a moment,” the Doctor patted Emily’s feathered head. “At one time, they were used to haul salt from the mines on the southern side of the planet. Now they’re free to earn a living as a means of transportation. Offer Beulah there a little something as payment.”

“Wait,” I said, eyes watering as short little green impish creatures scurried around scooping up Rouser dropping. Rose snuggled up close to the Doctor’s back. “Are you telling me these beasts are intelligent?”

“Oh, yes! Quite,” he shouted down. Oliver stumbled up to me, his skin a shade of green I’d never seen on a human before. “They decide who they’ll carry and for how much, so make the offer a good one.”

“Wonderful,” I grumbled as I dug into my various pockets. I found a lemon drop hard candy, a pen cap, and a ball of cat hair.

“Oh, that’s nice! Offer it to Beulah!” The Doctor yelled as his ride pawed at the ground. I held my hand out toward the nearest Rouser. It nudged at my hand, sniffed air into two holes in its enormous yellow beak and then roared like a lion.  “Magnificent! She accepts your gifts. Must have been the lemon drop. They _love_ lemon drops. Now chuck it into her beak and climb up.”

“I hate my life right now,” I mumbled as I chucked the gifts into Beulah’s open beak. She swallowed then turned to the side. I climbed onto her bony back, reaching down once I was settled to hoist Oliver up behind me. His arms cinched around me tightly as soon as the Rouser took a few steps.

“I hope this is a smooth ride. My stomach is quite the mess,” Oliver groaned behind me.

“If you vomit on me I’ll be greatly displeased and will whip your bare ass, “I told the man clinging to me. He grunted and moaned as we set off after the Doctor. There was nothing to hold onto but the feathers on the back of the Rouser’s head. After an hour of riding on Beulah’s back I could no longer feel my ass or my balls. My cock had also gone to sleep.

“Just another four hours and we’ll be at the beach,” the Doctor shouted back to us. I’d never wanted to die more than I did at that moment. By the time we reached the TARDIS the lower half of my body was dead. Oliver fell off Beulah, whimpering about his nuts. I slithered off the beast, fell on the wet sand and laid there on my side, unable to walk or move my legs.

“Leave us…to die,” I weakly said when the Doctor and Rose appeared and looked down at us.

“Didn’t you rent a Rouser rug?” the Doctor enquired as he bent over to tug Oliver to his feet.

I wanted to shoot one of his big ears right off.  “No one mentioned a rug.”

“Oh? Really? Huh. Well, seems a captain of time would know about Rouser rugs.” He slid an arm round Oliver’s waist and walked my queasy and numb sidekick to his stupid blue box.

“I could use a hand,” I told Rose. She clapped and then walked off. “Miserable people, both of them,” I snarled as I rolled around in the sand willing my legs to work. The feeling in my lower extremities finally returned so I limped to and then into the police box.

“It’s bigger on the inside!” Oliver bellowed at me as I gimped inside and shut the door. Yes. Yes, it was. I ran a curious eye over the Time Lord’s machine. Oliver stood beside a smiling Rose as the Doctor yanked on levers and whacked his prized box with a rubber mallet. The machine then started running, the engine wheezing. It was a unique sound. One that was once heard would never be forgotten.

Oliver and I dropped down to sit on some metallic steps, silently watching the Doctor as he coaxed his machine into cooperating. There was a large lurch that nearly sent us flying from the stairs.

“Right! She’s not happy about a certain captain wearing a certain thing while riding inside her.” He gave me a pointed glare. “Can you hand over your guns until we land?”

I felt it was him that objected to my being armed. How could a damn machine care who was inside it? I pulled my guns from my holsters and handed them to Rose. The TARDIS bucked and threw itself to the right. We all battled to stay put.

“Do you have more weapons on you?” He shouted as he flung switches and kicked at the various dials. I huffed and began plucking my toys from their various hidden spots. Rose’s pretty eyes were wide when I was done. She wobbled to the Doctor with her arms full of ordinance.

“Bit overkill wouldn’t you say?” the Doctor sourly said.

I shrugged and winced. “Overkill is always better than underkill.”

That seemed to twist his knickers a bit. Good. Damn Time Lords always lecturing and preaching and being all lordly. Pft. I glanced over at Oliver. He was utterly washed out by the looks.

“Lean up,” I gently told him. He slumped forward. I slid his backpack off, unzipped it, and dug around until I found his little tin of pills. “Here, take one of these. Not sure how much it will help inside this rattletrap contraption but nothing ventured as they say.”

“Thank you.” He took two of the white pills, popped them into his mouth, and chewed them up. I dropped his sack beside my foot and relieved him of his walking stick. “I’m afraid that I’m not being a good adventure companion.”

I pulled his head to my shoulder, my fingers sliding into the thick mass of brown curls. “You’re doing fine. Trust me, I’ve travelled with far more annoying people.”

“Mm, was that intended to be a compliment?”

“Yes, it was. Just rest a bit,” I told him as I toyed with his hair. I enjoyed the way the curls bounced back when I combed my fingers through them. His weight on my side increased quickly. Getting up was out of the question so I sat there, his head on my shoulder, my arm around his waist, holding him snugly to keep him safe. As Oliver snoozed I studied the time machine and was thoroughly underwhelmed. The thing appeared to be the creation of a toddler with too many bloody tinker toys.

“Rose, give that lever there a swift spin, will you? Oh, marvelous! That’s perfect. And here we are.” The Doctor leaped from his spot at the console and raced to the door, Rose right behind him. “Hmm,” the man from Gallifrey said when he threw open the door to the TARDIS.

“Hmmmm,” Rose seconded.

“Hmm what?” I asked. Oliver mumbled something about tuna salad. I gathered him to my side and stood up, not an easy task as the man was much taller than I with long, rubbery legs that folded like bad poker hand whenever we’d take a step. “No, that’s fine. You two just continue to gawk out the door while I struggle here with my sidekick.”

“Adventure companion.” Oliver’s reply was garbled and sluggish.

“Oh, sorry,” the Doctor hustled over to help steer Oliver to the doors. Rose stepped aside so that I could gaze out at the scenery. I threw a confused look around Oliver at Big Ears.

“It’s a damn city filled with fully-clothed cows walking about,” I said with just a bit of venom. Okay, lots of venom. So much venom it could have eaten through the floor of the TARDIS.

“Yes, well, perhaps if we ask the citizens of Bovinia politely about their milk output they’ll be happy to oblige.” He grinned. I really wanted to kick him in the shins.

“I’m not so sure, Doctor,” Rose said as she wiggled up on my right. “If some bloke what looks like you two asked me if my milk were sour, I’d slap him hard enough his mum would feel it.”

“Don’t be silly! It’s all in how one asks. Observe!” Off the Doctor went leaving me to shoulder the weight of my adventure companion.

“Does he always listen that well?” I asked Rose.

“He’s a bit exuberant,” she replied then darted out into the bright sunshine to follow the fool in the leather jacket to a large park.

“I have a few words that fit the dolt better than exuberant,” I muttered to Oliver.

“I’m really quite sleepy. Can I nap?” Oliver asked as I lugged his lanky ass into the city known as Bovinia. I no sooner stepped up to the Doctor who was conversing with a Jersey cow in a pink pinafore when the first of what would be several slaps to the Doctor’s face took place. I snorted as the Doctor rubbed his left cheek.

“Those hooves smart a bit,” he sighed then lumbered off to ask another cow if her milk had soured over the past few hours. I looked skyward. Four red stars shone brightly even with the sun of Bovinia glaring at midday height. Dammit.

“Doctor, perhaps if I asked?” Rose suggested after a rather haughty Jersey cow in a blue dress and hat stalked off, righty affronted. I tried not to stare at her udders but found that I couldn’t help myself.

“Yes, perhaps that would be for the best,” the Doctor replied with resignation. We gents went to stand under a tree as cows of various colors and ages walked past. Some with prams that had calves in them, others old cows with droopy udders. Again, I couldn’t _not_ look as the damn things were right there for the world to see, hanging out of their dresses like big cow bags.

“I may never drink milk again,” Oliver mumbled. I tugged him up a bit while silently agreeing. Rose chased after a Holstein pushing a pram with twin calves. The damn pram was huge and the calves were making a loud fuss. I propped Oliver against the tree, watched him shimmy down to the base and nod off, and then folded my arms over my chest.

“So,” I nonchalantly threw out as a couple of cows – pardon me a cow and a bull – moseyed past talking and eating grass out of paper cups as humans would cheese crackers. “You and her a thing?”

“I – what? No, of course not. She’s just my companion,” he hurried to say. His face carried a distinct red cow hoof mark.

“Well, he’s my companion,” I jerked my head at Oliver napping at the base of the tree. “Adventure companion he likes to say. I have all kinds of naughty plans for him and me after we save the universe. Most include copious amounts of slickery stuff, a big feather bed, and dehydration. Definitely dehydration from losing body fluids will be a large part.”

Big Ears gawped at me. His mouth worked but no sounds or words came out. Luckily for him, Rose Tyler came bouncing back to us.

“Right, so there seems to be some trouble with the calves refusing to nurse today. Mum says her milk is off.” Rose threw a worried look at the four red orbs overhead. “You think this is really the end of the universe?”

“Nah,” the Doctor replied as his gaze roamed over the skies as well. “I could use a toffee bar. Who wants one?”

He walked back to the TARDIS. I gave Rose a look. She shrugged.

“You get used to it. Sometimes he seems rude but he’s just juggling things in his head,” she said.

A cow grazed behind her. It was wearing a bonnet. “If this is the kind of planet he visits, I don’t wonder he has things to juggle inside his head.” I bent over to get Oliver to his feet. He was quite wobbly.

“Excuse me, Ma’am, but could you jump over the moon? Ah, no, probably too heavy. Never mind!” Oliver yelled at the cow strolling about with the bull. The bull snorted angrily and shook his big horns in a threatening manner. His suit was impeccably tailored though.

“Time for you to go back to the box,” I muttered. Rose slipped up on Oliver’s right and we hustled him to the TARDIS before a goring occurred. Once inside and on our way, Rose led Oliver and I to what appeared to be an old, tan car seat. We got Oliver stretched out as best we could. He was so tall and long-limbed that from his knees down his legs were off the seat.

“He’s very cute,” Rose whispered as I gently removed Olive’s glasses and tucked them into Egbert’s napping pocket.

“Yes, he rather is.” I flicked a wayward curl from his smooth brow then stepped away from the slumbering academic/sidekick. “Any idea where we’re heading now?”

“Not a clue, but, I do know it won’t be boring.” She smiled in a manner not unlike the man from Gallifrey when he spoke of space and travelling through it. It looked much better on Rose Tyler.

“Do either of you have a ballpoint pen?” The Doctor called from under us. We both looked down to see him peeking over the edge of the floor.

“I might. Let me check in my purse,” Rose said then dashed off.

“You sketching dirty pictures in your journal under there?” I asked then turned to watch the pistons – or whatever they were – moving up and down steadily in the console stem.

“Nope, making a small adjustment to the astrosextant rectifier. Ah. Brilliant! Thank you, Rose!” He disappeared back under the floor grating with a pen in his teeth.

“Oh, sure. Of course, those damn things are always acting up,” I muttered under my breath. Rose giggled as she settled down on the steps with a romance novel, her booted feet tucked under her ass.

“They’re quite touchy,” the Doctor announced as he jogged past me. “But, a good jab in the rectifier with a pen always straightens it out.”

“Would me as well,” I said. Rose giggled again. Oliver snored lightly. “Care to fill us in on where we’re going next?”

He rapped the console this his knuckles, his big nose pressed up against a screen with numbers floating about.

“Doctor?” I tapped him on the arm.

“Oh, yes, sorry. I was just trying to see if I could triangulate the last known chunks of Parthock.”

“We’re going to find those chunks of star and then what? Blow them up?” I could only hope. Explosions were fun.

“No, no blowing them up. We’re going to join them back together and _then_ blow them up. Providing we’re not sucked into the heart of the newly formed star and get incinerated.”

I blinked at the man like a dullard. “What are the chances of not being cremated as Parthock reforms?” It was a question that needed asked.

The Doctor took a moment to think. “Not good,” he said then ran off to talk to Rose about her romance novel.

“I’m never answering a call from Dorium ever again,” I sighed as we rocketed through space to find Parthock bits.

 

**To be continued…**


	18. Twinkle, Twinkle, Deadly Star - Chapter Eighteen - Home, Hearth, and Heart

**Twinkle, Twinkle, Deadly Star**

**Chapter Eighteen**

**Home, Hearth, and Heart**

 (Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.)

I’d left Rose and her Doctor talking about romance novels as Oliver peacefully napped. The need to touch base with Amelia back home was overwhelming. Probably something to do with the impending deadly reforming of a giant star that would suck us in and fry us. Those kinds of things make you want to phone home.

“Be careful where you wander,” the Doctor called after me when I slipped away from the main console. “There are doors that once opened can never be closed.”

“Just looking for the loo,” I shouted over my shoulder.

“Ah! Seventeenth door on the left,” he yelled in reply.

I had doubts that there was one door in here let alone seventeen. After walking for a bit my doubts vanished. I lost count once and flung open door number sixteen which seemed to be a wardrobe room. I ran my fingers lovingly over my red jacket and shut the door. As if anything in that room could match my stunning coat.

After a quick recount, I pulled open a door and nearly stepped into a swimming pool. The smell of chlorine and the rush of moist, hot air smacked me in the face.

“Okay, what the hell?” I asked, shut the pool room door, and made one last count. This time I took a step forward, raised my fists just in case, and kicked the door open. It was a bathroom. After using the facility and washing up, I leaned against the flocked wallpaper and flipped open my wrist strap. A touch of two buttons and a glowing blue hologram of my sister appeared before me. She smiled and the worry inside me doubled. If I died trying to save the universe she’d be alone and vulnerable. There would be no one to protect Amelia from him.

“Hello, little one,” I smiled at her. She grinned back.

“Hello, John. I’m so happy to hear from you! How are you making out? Did you save the universe yet?”

“No, not yet luv, but soon. Just need to gather up some space dust, roll it into a ball then blow it up. Typical day in the life,” I said and poured on the glib.

“You’re truly a hero. You and Mr. Bancroft. Is he about?” She leaned left then right trying to spy her art teacher.

“He’s napping. Gets a bit woozy travelling.”

“Ah.”

“Listen, pigeon, I need you to promise to pay heed now.”

“Is this a lecture coming? I’ve not stayed after school since you’ve been gone.” She looked right at me and crossed her heart with a finger. “Honestly, I’ve come right home. You can access Prism’s data banks and…”

“No, Amelia, it’s not that.” Ugh. How to begin this? “If sometime in the distant future I don’t return home there’s a box in my bedroom…”

“What? Why wouldn’t you come home?” Distress tightened her lovely face. “John, is there something that you’re not telling me?”

“Amelia, all is fine.” I reassured her but she looked to be doubtful. “Truly, this is just something that’s been prying on my mind. Now pay attention. In my room, under the bed, is a small box. Prism can open it. She’s got the combination programmed into her accessory applications. Inside that box is a key. It fits a lock box tucked away in a safe on Earth. Chicago, Illinois. First National Bank of Chicago. Inside that box is the deed to the land on Tetra 14 and enough gold dust to keep you comfortable for years. I’m sorry there’s not more dust in there. I was rather lax with savings until you came to live with me, but if you’re frugal you’ll not want for much.”

“John, you’re scaring me.”

I had to look skyward for a second to get my features locked into place before I could meet her anxious eyes. “No need to fret. These are just directions for you now that you’re mature enough to understand. You do understand? Repeat what I just said back to me.”

She did. Word for word. She was such a clever child. “Good lass. I love you.”

“I love you too, John. You _will_ come home, yes?”

Ah, her voice cracking nearly did me in. I kept the nonchalant attitude up though. “I’m not that easy to get rid of. Just ask some of my old boyfriends.”

She giggled but it was weak. Someone rapped on the door at my back.

“I have to go. I’ll see you quite soon. I’m expecting a party with a big cake when I get home.” I smiled then ended the call before she could read something from my voice that I did not want her reading. Taking a steadying breath, I opened the door and looked up into warm, squinty, green eyes.

“Sorry to interrupt, but do you have my glasses?”

“Oh yes, sorry.” I pulled his spectacles from the interior pocket of my coat and handed them to him. He looked sexy as hell. His curls all ruffled from sleep lit off a small tremor of lust inside me.

“Wonderful! I tried the wrong door and found myself in some sort of zero gravity chamber. Took me ten minutes to swim over to the door and get out,” he chuckled as he looped his glasses over his ears.

“Yes, the doors in this thing seem to work on the same principle as the stairwells in Hogwarts,” I commented as I pulled the door closed. Oliver chortled at my reply. I then brazenly grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and yanked his mouth down to mine. It was some sort of primal madness that kept me coming back to him, to his mouth, and the taste of him on my tongue. His response was immediate. Our tongues slipped and curled, stroked and teased, until we were both breathless and hard as fence posts.

“Captain…John,” he panted as I feasted on his long neck, my fingers locked tightly in his thick curls. I ground against him in response. His inhale was shaky. The grip he had on my shoulders intensified to the point that I had to shake free. “Ah, sorry, your wound. Captain - John, please…”

“There’s got to be a bedroom behind one of those damn doors,” I murmured then ran my tongue over short, rough whiskers.

“Captain, I – We need to…Ah, that’s so good, John,” he mewled at a sharp nip placed to his earlobe. “Yes, I think… a bedroom. Gods, yes, that’s a glorious idea. A bed.”

Someone rapped on the door I had Oliver pinned to. My sidekick startled severely, shoving me away with such vigor I nearly went backassward over the toilet. I caught myself by throwing a hand to the wall. The catch jarred my shoulder. Oliver spun around in a complete circle while flattening his wild curls and trying to get his glasses aligned properly on his face.

“You two grabbing a fast snog in there, are you?” Rose shouted through the thin crack between door and jamb.

“Yes,” I snarled in reply. Oliver gave me a horrified look then opened the door a crack. There stood the lovely Rose, smiling like a rat who’d just stumbled into the cheese factory. I folded my arms over my chest.

“No, no, of course not,” Oliver stammered. Rose cocked an eyebrow. “We were just – ah…discussing the beauty of the solar system.”

“That what you call it?” Rose asked then giggled mischievously. I nudged the embarrassed academic aside.

“Is there a reason you interrupted our tryst?” I enquired.

“Discussion. It was a discussion,” Oliver muttered.

Rose seemed most amused by the two of us. “The Doctor has something to show you.”

“Thank you, Rose,” Oliver called from behind me. I mumbled something that she might think was a ‘Thank you’ but was, in fact, a mumble from a man with a raging hard-on. Oliver and I stood staring at each other as we willed our erections to go away. Or at least I assumed that was what he was pondering. I knew I was.

“Are you in pain?” I finally asked.

He shook his head. “Captain, I just need to say this.” He gathered himself up to his impressive height and pasted on a look of resolve. “I find you to be incredibly attractive in many ways.” I inclined my head. So far, I agreed with him. “Would you have dinner with me when we return home?”

“Dinner?”

Oliver stooped down to kiss me softly on the mouth. “Yes, dinner. It’s the meal one eats late in the day. We could call it a date.”

“A date? Like going out to an eatery and making small talk over some cheap wine as some buffoon walks about playing romantic music on an ill-tuned violin?”

“Yes, just like that.”

“Pft.”

He chuckled and pecked me one last time on the lips. “That’s providing we live through the next day,” he tacked on then yanked open the door and sauntered out leaving me standing in the loo looking like a jackass. I stalked out of the bathroom and caught up to him. He gave me a playful sideways glance.

“Ah, there you two are. Did you get lost?” the Time Lord asked when we arrived in the main engine room or whatever one called it.

“They were talking about spacy things in the loo,” Rose tossed out. She was a cheeky minx. I liked her.

“Really? That’s an odd place to discuss spacy things but whatever floats your boat as the kids say. Come over here and have a look.” He waved us to the door of the TARDIS then flung it wide open. Oliver and I both mildly freaked out and threw our arms around each other. Nothing happened. We didn’t get sucked out the door and flung into the endless cold of space. We blinked at each other. “No worries. The TARDIS keeps you safe. Come on! Give the first chunk of Parthock a fast once over before we gather it up and take it with us!”

I tentatively walked to the open door and got a huge grin from the Doctor. Oliver stood behind me since he could see over my head, the lanky so-and-so. There, spread out before us as we hovered in space, was a huge green and red cluster of tiny stars and thick clouds of space dust, languidly moving in a torpid circular motion.

“How are we breathing?” Oliver quietly asked.

“There’s a sort of air shell around her.” The Doctor stroked the old wooden door as if he were caressing a lover. Odd as a flouncy cod the man from Gallifrey was. “So, now that you’ve seen one of the parts, let’s see if we can gather it up, shall we?!”

He flung the door shut, ran over to the console, and gave us all a loopy smile. “You’ll want to grab hold of something solid. Things might get a bit bouncy when we lasso that star cloud.” He hammered on the console, kicked a lever, and then all sorts of hell broke loose.

 

**To be continued…**


	19. Twinkle, Twinkle, Deadly Star - Chapter Nineteen - How to Catch a Star

**Twinkle, Twinkle, Deadly Star**

**Chapter Nineteen**

**How to Catch a Star**

 (Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.)

 

 

I felt confident in my earlier appraisals of the Time Lord. He was a madman. Who but a raving loony would attempt to lasso a star chunk? It was madness. Even his bloody TARDIS seemed to think he’d gone around the bend if the conversation he was having with the time machine was any indication.

“What we’re going to do,” he shouted over the wheezing protests of the TARDIS, “is send out an energy net of sorts, one that’s large enough to engulf that old Parthock chunk, and entrap it. Rose luv, give that spinner a spin. Not that hard!”

We were all sent ass over tea cups. Rose rolled off the platform, saved from a nasty bump by Oliver grabbing her arm at the last second. I fell into one of the flashing consoles, directly across from the Doctor. His jaw was set and his gaze riveted to the gizmos in front of him.

“All of this from a spin of a spinner?” I shouted as we bobbed and jostled about in space.

“Spinners are delicate devices! Hit that bobbin there. No, not that, the bobbin. Big gold bobbin. Yes! Well done, Captain. There, that’s got it. Let’s go take a look!”

Off he ran to the doors. I teetered over to Oliver and Rose and assisted in pulling the lovely thing back to the platform.

“No, really, I’m fine,” she snapped as she stalked up to the Doctor.

“Oh good. Hate to see you bruise your coconut.” He reached out to rub her head. Rose did not look amused. “Ah, well done.” He said after opening the door and sticking his big ears out into space. “The energy lasso is holding nicely. Wonderful!” He clapped and slammed the door shut then ran back to the console. “Now we only have to do that a few more times, pray each netting holds, and then pick a nice out of the way place to rejoin them.”

“And then hope we don’t get sucked into Parthock and die.” We all glanced at Rose. She shrugged. “Seemed important to add that on. Sorry.”

“No one dies on my watch,” the Doctor quickly said. We took off then, the lurch of the TARDIS when it set off reminding us of the fact that we were towing a volatile bit of star in our wake.

The day was a long one, filled with bouncing about in time, looking for chunks of star. Oliver and I spent time playing card games with Rose as we travelled. The Doctor periodically added his two cents to the games then returned to calculations and spinner spinning. After several hours and probably two billion miles covered, we crawled up to the last bit of Parthock. This one had stopped moving and just sat in a far, dark corner of a galaxy unknown to me.

“The last limb of Parthock,” the Doctor sighed almost sadly as we peered at it through the door of the TARDIS.

“What, like its arm or something?” Rose asked the tall man on her left. The man from Gallifrey shook his head.

“More like it’s brain.”

“Then it’s gone brain dead,” I pointed out, Oliver at my back. “That’s got no life in it. Not like the other chunks we’ve gathered up.”

“Oh, it will. As soon as it’s joined back with its parts, the crush and spin of space will begin to work upon it. Dust particle will bounce off of dust particle and the glorious regeneration of life will begin.”

“And then we blow it up.” I said. No one answered. I looked at the rest of the bunch. They seemed almost sad. “Oh, really now? We’re mourning a star that will suck the entire universe into it?”

“Life, no matter how good or evil, deserves to be mourned when it’s lost,” the Doctor said then shut the door, took a step toward the console, and then paused. “Ooo, did you feel that? They’re already moving toward each other.”

The TARDIS _was_ moving. The gentle motion of it slowly cranking about to the left made us all gape at each other.

“Doctor,” Rose whispered. “You think maybe we should release the bits from the energy netting?”

“Amazing. I’d forgotten just how deadly this star was. The power of the cosmos. Isn’t it fantastic?!”

“Right, it’s quite special,” I commented. The TARDIS was then jerked soundly, sending us tumbling into each other.

“Oh, Parthock grows impatient,” the Doctor snickered. I looked at Oliver. He shrugged. The Doctor bounded around us, skidded up to the console, and laid his hands on a large brass lever. “Hang onto your hats, kids. Things are about to get exciting! If, for some reason, I am removed from the console, this lever that I’m holding must be engaged. If it’s not, we’ll be sucked into the star reforming with no fight whatsoever. Are we clear? Captain?”

“Yes, we’re clear,” I shouted and that seemed to placate him.

Being tossed about like four marbles in a wooden box being shaken by a lad is hardly my idea of exciting. Oliver went to his ass first thing. Rose rolled into me. I steadied her then we both were thrown to the side when the TARDIS broke free of the energy bonds/lasso/nets.

“And we’re free!” the Doctor yelled as the machine spun madly in circles, end over end, the engines firing lazily. “She seems to be a bit rundown after hauling several reluctant star bits over hill and dale.” He kicked at a whirring gizmo, slapped several buttons, and probably honked a horn. Not sure to be honest. The three passengers – of which I was one – were clinging to each other and the railing on the stairs so as to _not_ be chucked about and break our necks.

“We’re going backward,” Rose shouted. I felt that as well. The star was reforming much faster than even the Time Lord had thought it would. We were being pulled into the whirling reformation and would die. Wonderful. The illustrious life of John Hart would end with me being a burp in the regeneration of a star.

“Steady now,” the Doctor bellowed to those of us hanging on by our fingertips. The time machine listed strongly to the left. The Doctor slipped away from his buttons, levers, spinners, and bobbins. Over the side he flew. Rose screamed his name and broke away from us. I tried to get a hand on her but the wild gyrations of the TARDIS made it impossible.

“Oh, bloody hell.” I let go of the railing and slid into the console, the impact jarring me from head to toes and reigniting the agony in that damn shoulder.

“Captain!” Oliver shouted but I ignored his worry. I slapped a hand to the lever and pushed it back into place. The TARDIS instantly replied, or tried. She groaned and whined, wheezed, and shuddered, valiantly pulling against the suction of what must be an enormous whirlpool of stars and space debris jelling back into existence. Small rocks bounced off the walls of the time machine. I could just hear the Doctor and Rose yelling at each other. The blue box trembled violently. Oliver was bellowing at me. What he was saying I do not know. All I knew was that I had to keep this fucking lever up or Amelia would perish.

Then, we broke free, or were pulled into Parthock. The TARDIS stopped convulsing, the engines slowed, and Rose Tyler rolled out from under the floor, cussing like a dock worker. Oliver was tossed into my back, his arms linking around my waist.

“Let the lever drop into low now, Captain!” the Doctor yelled from under us. I let go. Everything grew still and silent, the only sounds the hum of the engine and Oliver’s panting beside my ear.

“My damn head,” Rose groaned and stood up, her fingers massaging a spot under her golden hair. The Doctor popped up like a Jack-In-The-Box, smiling like a fool.

“Now we get to blow it up,” the Doctor announced as he jogged up the stairs and began touching his console somewhat erotically. I truly was worried about the bloke. Spend all your time alone with a gorgeous blonde and you stroke your time machine instead? “Captain, you seem to enjoy causing explosions. Would you like to put an end to Parthock?”

My shoulder wound throbbed steadily, the miserable thing. “I’d like nothing better but someone took all my ordinance.”

He gave me a studious look. “You were carrying nothing powerful enough to end the life of a virulent star. Come. It’s as simple and deadly as pushing a red button.”

And so, he led me to the button. A small one, lost amid the flashing lights and other distractions of his TARDIS. I went to jab it and he grabbed my wrist.

“You do realize that all life is precious and rare?”

I nodded. Was he looking at me with some sort of intent? Oh. I got it. He was trying to make a point about murdering people. Whatever. I shook free and stabbed that button. The lights of the TARDIS dimmed. Rose bolted to the door of the time machine and ripped it open. We gents joined her. Witnessing the death of that star seemed to touch them all rather deeply. I wasn’t sure what kind of weapons the TARDIS had, but the flare of several bomb-like explosions caused the gigantic star to begin folding in on itself. We all stood there in awe, watching Parthock slowly collapse and then flicker into nothingness.

“That was a much less impressive explosion than I’d thought it would be,” I said then looked over at Oliver. He sighed deeply as if he’d lost a friend. “You don’t look happy for a man who just helped save the universe.”

 

“It’s upsetting to witness something die.”

So that was what was wrong with them? Such tender souls they all were. I pulled Oliver down for a good snog, but when our lips met, the urge to go deep disappeared. I simply pressed a chaste kiss to his lips and then held him to me. His long arms encircled me.

“I knew deep down you had a good heart,” he murmured into my ear.

Yes, that was me, Captain John Hart, he of the good and kind heart. Egad.

“Well, don’t let that get around. I do have a reputation to protect,” I said then inhaled the scent of man and linen deeply into my lungs.

“Your secret is safe with me, John.”

 

**To be concluded…**

 


	20. Twinkle, Twinkle, Deadly Star - Chapter Twenty - Homecoming

**Twinkle, Twinkle, Deadly Star**

**Chapter Twenty**

**Homecoming**

 (Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.)

 

“It’s on a bit of knob,” Rose stated. Oliver and I nodded. “It’s not one of your better parking jobs. Look, we’re all leaning to the left.”

“Well, as long as we’re not knickers over noggins I say it’s a fine landing. One you can walk away from and all that! So, Captain, this is your stop.”

He took hold of my arm. I yanked free and glowered at him. “Bit of a hurry to get rid of the man who saved the universe.”

“Truth told, it was _me_ who saved it. But you were an upstanding assistant!” With one of his asinine grins Oliver and I were hustled to the door of the TARDIS then gently shoved out of it. When we righted ourselves, there stood pretty Rose and the dimwitted Doctor waving at us in the doorway. She was right. The blue box was parked kitty-corner on a small hill. “Have a good life gents, and do keep in mind that being kind and giving is far more rewarding than any amount of gold dust from a certain blue barkeep.”

They disappeared into the box. Oliver waved his walking stick at the rapidly fading time machine. I went to rest my hand on the handle of my katana to watch them fade from sight when I realized my katana was still on the TARDIS, along with all my other weapons.

“Wait you stupid twit! My guns are on there!” My shouting did no good. They were gone and so were my favorite pistols. “Fuck this. Just fuck this!” I yanked a handful of wild daises from the ground and flung them at the spot where the TARDIS had been. They fluttered to the waving grass without so much as a tiny bang. “That was wholly disappointing.” I kicked the plucked daisies, fuming mad, and then turned that rage on Oliver when he sniggered.

“You do have a bit of a temper.” He strolled off, his stick across his broad shoulders, whistling a silly little tune. I caught up with him and got a warm smile.

“Do you know how much those guns cost me?” I asked. My tiny farm came into view. Songbirds trilled in the trees surrounding my home.

“Not one clue.” He continued walking and whistling.

“You’re quite chipper for a man who gets sick watching someone on a boat,” I snapped because I was put out over losing my guns and katana, and because he was too damn happy.

“If I’m given time to take them in advance, I’m usually right as rain. Also,” he gazed down at me, his green eyes smoky hot, “your sister is at school for three more hours.”

Oh. “I have a bed at my house.”

“Yes, I’m aware.” He fell into whistling again.

Ah. Well now, that was a marvelous idea. We’d been circling each other since that first meeting like a pair of randy goats. Kissing and groping in heated spurts. Obviously, the attraction was red hot and we both had plans to act on it. By the time we reached my front door, I was hard as granite and eager to get inside and into bed. I latched onto Oliver’s arm, spun him around, and shoved him back into the door. His breath left him in a shocked gasp that quickly turned into a purr of pleasure when I slanted my mouth over his. His walking stick clattered to the stepping stones.

“Inside, clothes off,” I huffed over his damp lips moments later. His shirt hung off one shoulder, my jacket was on the walkway, and both of us were in dire need of release. Hands too greedy to fully let go of those wonderful dark curls, we fumbled and bumbled around my house, stripping off our shirts and pants as we bounced off walls, chairs, and the ice box.

“John, stars above,” Oliver growled when my fingers circled his cock. We fell into my bedroom then onto the bed, him on his back. The covers and feather-filled mattress ballooned up around us. I captured his mouth again, working his long, stiff cock firmly. “Yes, just give me…Ah!”

I captured one small dark nipple and sucked it hungrily. His long legs tangled with mine as he slipped over and on top of me. The stiff little peak slid from my lips but I held onto that hard prick for dear life. His hand went between my legs, his mouth to my throat. He nibbled and kissed a hot line from my jaw to my belly button then further yet, my balls held gently in his palm, his cock now gone from my grip.

When his mouth closed around me, my eyes rolled back and a low, guttural sound rumbled out of me. He knew how to please incredibly well. Too well. His pace was too fast, too heated, and my desire far too high to last much longer.

“Come up here,” I huffed as my fingers slipped into those magnificent curls. I gently tugged on them until Oliver was spread over me like a blanket warmed by the sun. His lips toyed with mine as we touched and teased, cocks rubbing tantalizingly. “Preference?” I asked as we nipped at each other’s lips.

“None,” he purred, his mouth trailing over my jaw to my ear then back to my lips.

“Reach into the nightstand.” I lay on my back, hands skimming over his ribs, my breathing escalating at the sound of the drawer gliding open. “Yes, nice,” I said when he showed me the tube of lubricant. “Smear that on whatever cock is going into whatever ass and be quick about it.”

He removed his glasses, bending his tall body to the side to place them on the stand. Then he flicked the lid open. My toes curled when he slicked my cock then positioned himself over me.

“It’s been some time,” he confessed, a fine pink color infusing his cheeks.

“Then let me guide you, Oliver.” I took his hips in hand and gently, slowly, as tenderly as I could pushed up into him as I was gradually pulling him down. It was hard to say which of us were moaning the loudest or shuddering the hardest. Being seated in him was exquisite, hot, slippery, divine, passionate madness.

“Yes, oh by all the colors on a palette that is good, yes,” he groaned, his head rolling forward as his hips rose and fell. He stole my breath with that move then continued to rob me of oxygen with each movement he made. I’d been in many a man and quite a few women but never had it felt this…this…

“Perfect,” Oliver ground out.

Yes. Perfect. This was perfect. This joining. This man. This moment.

I bucked up when he came down. His glowing green eyes widened and he began pumping his cock furiously. My orgasm steamrolled me. I thrust into him wildly. He sat down roughly and shot ribbons of hot semen over my chest.

Oliver’s knees slid out to the sides, dropping the man on my chest. I linked my arms around him, eager to have his spunk slathered over both of us. One hand on his lower back, the other diving into those curls, I chased after his mouth, suddenly starved for another taste. He was eager to accommodate my greedy lips, opening for me then stroking my tongue with his for the longest time.

“We’ve made a bit of a mess,” he murmured when speech was possible.

There was no arguing that news. I could feel spunk leaking out of him and coating my balls and ass. The bedding was surely damp.

“Just so you’re aware, you’ll not catch anything nasty from me. There’s not a sickness out there -sexual or otherwise – that the Agency didn’t inoculate us against.” I lapped at the corner of his mouth.

“Nor I. I’d been meticulous about lovers before I got married. Then I was monogamous for quite a few years.”

He began to lift himself up. Losing the connection we’d had was miserable. I rather liked feeling his chest lying on mine as my cock rested inside him. I let him go then linked my hands behind my head and watched as he stretched out beside me after grabbing his underwear from the floor to wipe the spunk from between his legs. His gaze flickered to mine. Then he swiped at the now cool droplets of cum on my belly and chest.

“I’m not sure where we go from here to be honest, John,” he said while dabbling at my stomach.

“I thought you said we had to go to dinner. And wasn’t there some sort of stupid trip to the art museums?”

“Well, yes.” He blinked. It was damn cute that look of surprise he now wore. “I just assumed that once the sex was over…”

“Why do people always think the worst of me? Don’t answer that,” I quickly added. His nose wrinkled in soft humor as his hand lingered near that partially healed wound on my shoulder. “I like dinner so let’s do that. I enjoyed this romp tremendously so let’s keep doing that as well.”

“Very well, yes, I’d like more dinners and romping with you as well.” He wet his lips. That drove me slightly mad and my cock stirred just a bit. “We’ll have to be discreet, John. If I lost my position at the school, what would I do?”

“Well,” I reached up to trace his mouth with my thumb. “I could always use an adventure companion if the anxious assholes who run that school ever find out that we’re romping.”

That made his jade eyes sparkle. “I was a bit of alright at your side, wasn’t I?”

“You were quite a bit of alright, Oliver Bancroft. You might as well stop tidying us up. We still have a good two hours before Amelia gets home and I plan to put that time to carnal use.”

A sultry grin lit up his face right before he chucked the briefs to the headboard and shimmied over me.

Yes, I decided as his mouth captured mine, an adventure companion could be a rather nice thing indeed if the universe was ever in peril again. Or perhaps just to go steal things and shoot people...

 

 

**The End**

 

 

**Ah, John. I do love you so! We’ll have another adventure for John, Oliver, and Amelia in the future, but for now it’s back to my OTP. Next up we’re going to have another “Day in the Life” one-shot and then we’ll be getting back to our dashing captain and his beloved factotum as they head to Scotland. Look for “Depth of a Loch” starting soon.**

**Thank you so much for reading along.**

**Yours in fiction—**

**Feral**


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